Alphabetical Ruminations
by Sweet Little Mary Sue
Summary: Alice left the Hatter behind in Underland, with his heart broken in two. Enter Claire Quinn, a wide-eyed young woman given to flights of fancy, who takes a tumble down a hole and finds herself surrounded by a fairytale realm...Tarrant/OC.
1. Words That Start With The Letter A

Alphabetical Ruminations

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: Alice left the Hatter behind in Underland, with his heart broken in two. Enter Claire Quinn, a wide-eyed young woman given to flights of fancy, who takes a tumble down a hole and finds herself surrounded by a fairytale realm where the Red Queen has made her way back from banishment with a need for revenge against her sister and all others who stood against her. Will Claire put everything on the line, her life included, to save the place that she has grown to love, and can a man find happiness with another when he was sure that he would only ever love the one called Alice?

Disclaimer: I have no claim to any story that Lewis Carroll ever created, or to the amazing film directed by Tim Burton. Sadly, I also have no ties to the wonderfully sexy and talented Johnny Depp...sob...but I was definitely inspired by his portrayal of the delightful Mad Hatter.

Author's Note: Let me say upfront that I loved the sweetness portrayed between Alice and the Hatter in Tim Burton's new film, but I was steamed when she left him behind, thus shattering his heart, at least in my opinion. That said I felt the need to write this bit of fanfic to give him a new girl of my creation, one that would be happy to stay in Underland for all time. This will be saccharinely fluffy, as all my fics are, so if you don't lean towards the fairytale romance type of prose, perhaps this isn't the tale for you.

Warnings: This story is rated M for possible swearing, violence of one type or another, sexual innuendo, and eventual, gratuitous smut.

Chapter One

Words That Start With the Letter A

1870

Abandoned-Left alone without being cared for or supported.

Hatter's POV

Life is monotonous repetition, each day passing by in the manner of yesterday, an endless procession to nothingness. I'm never truly alone, there's always someone nearby, but my head and my heart are barren, with only the distant memory of her smile to keep me from losing my mind...well, any more than what has already flown the coop.

I don't know how much time has passed since she left, she...blast it all, I can't even think of her by name...it simply hurts too much. All I know is that I've been notified that everything will be "just fine", and that it did no good to "carry on in this fashion". I know that everyone means well, that they are simply concerned with the effect my broken heart will have on my already teetering sanity, but I just wish that they'd bloody well piss off, and leave me to wallow in my self-pity.

I can't even muster up the inclination to continue in my work, even at the personal request of the queen. It used to bring me such joy, such fulfillment, to perform the trade of my choice, the industry that I had been born for, but now it held zero appeal for me, as was the case with everything in my life. What was the use in pretending that I cared whether or not time went on, when all I wanted was to kill the hours that remained, each second that existed without her an excruciating reminder that she would never come back.

"Care for a spot of tea, Hatter?" a tinny voice burst through the murkiness of my thoughts. "Maybe you'd like a fresh scone or two as well?"

Dear sweet Mally, she was the most faithful of all. She tried to bolster me each day, throughout the day, whilst others would only make the effort every other day. I had a hint of suspicion that she harbored devotion for me that went beyond that of simple friendship, but out of respect for her feelings I had never mentioned or even made any indication that I had noticed the lovelorn glances that she sent in my direction.

"No thank you, Mally," I answered, returning my gaze to the beautiful blossoms that adorned the trees surrounding the queen's palace. "I'm rather off tea and scones at the moment, but I do appreciate the offer."

I expected her to leave, after all my words were as good of a dismissal as any, but she stood her ground, her bulbous black eyes growing sad for a moment, then quickly growing heated, her tiny body quivering with what appeared to be barely controlled anger.

"Oh, you're rather off tea at the moment, are you Hatter?" she replied, her tiny voice growing even sharper as her irritation grew. "You're rather off scones as well, how about that? I suppose the only option I'm left with is to watch you wither away, right? After all, why should you be expected to live? Why should I care one way or another whether your heart continues beating? Oh that's right...maybe it's because I'm your bloody friend, that's why!"

Bothersome little mouse, who was she to stand there and rail at me like some sort of minuscule fishwife. "I'll be the one who chooses what I will consume and when I will consume it," I responded, my voice growing just as heated as the tone that she'd used with me. "And as for rather I live or rather I die, that is my decision. That is my _choice_ Mally, my _pronouncement_...my _judgment_...my _resolution_...my _evaluation_...my _conclusion_...my..."

"Hatter!" she screamed, cutting me off mid-tirade.

"Thank you," I replied rather sheepishly. It was so vexing to me, my tendency to fly off the handle, to lose myself in an enraged volley of words, shrieking like some sort of slobbering madman. "Please forgive me for lashing out at you Mally," I said quietly, my voice softening as I reached out to rub the tip of my finger beneath her chin.

"I'm the one who owes the apology here," she answered, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't know what came over me Hatter. I just worry about you so much, and I suppose it's made me a bit more snappish than normal."

I allowed myself a smile, a rarity for me lately. Mally was renowned for her snappishness throughout Underland, only I was rarely, if ever, a recipient of such treatment from her. I knew that only the deepest of concerns could have driven her to such a state, so I concluded that it was not only right, but necessary, that I partook of the repast that she'd assembled, despite the fact that the idea of food disgusted me at the moment.

I was saved from the unpleasant occurrence of upchucking by the arrival of a rather harried McTwisp, who had been installed in the position of herald to the rightful queen. "Hatter," he gasped, hopping from one foot to the other, reminding me of one who needed to empty his bladder in the most desperate way. "There has been an arrival, from above; another has fallen into our midst."

My heart lightened for a moment, my mind cleared, until I heard the word "another". If she had returned, the rabbit would have spoken her name; after all, it wasn't painful for him to say it. What did I care if some other twit had stumbled down a hole, landing themselves in our world? All I wanted was her, and this new arrival meant nothing to me.

"What do you expect me to do about that?" I asked, resuming my perusal of the pale pink blossoms that surrounded me. "I haven't a single care about some visitor from up above, McTwisp."

The rabbit stared back at me, his eyes growing stern. "Perhaps not Hatter, but your Queen has made the request that you fetch the newcomer and make them welcome here to Underland. That being said, she has declared that you will travel forth, procure the visitor, and bring them safely to her at once. Is that understood Hatter?"

Pious little furball...he knew damn good and well that I would obey my Queen. I may have lost all use for life in general, but the vow that I had made to Underland and its liege remained a necessitating drive in what remained of my sorry existence.

"Perfectly clear," I responded, standing and sighing as though I were bored. "I shall leave at once," I said, walking to the tray of vittles brought by the Dormouse, plucking a scone for my journey. "Inform her Highness that I will return by nightfall, safe and sound with our new guest."

Awestruck-Having the sensation of both wonder and dread.

Claire's POV

One minute I was strolling along peacefully, dutifully following my charges around the immense gardens on the Ascot estate, the next I was hurtling headfirst down a hole in the ground, into a seemingly unending tunnel, which was filled with images and objects that didn't belong in such an environment. I wondered briefly, as I was tumbling along, screaming like a banshee, if this was all a nightmare, or perhaps a figment of my rather overactive imagination, but as my hand glided across the keys of a grand piano, and musical notes sprang forth, I realized that I was very much awake, and this tunnel existed outside of my imagination.

On and on I traveled, dizzyingly spinning and flailing until at last I bounced, quite ungracefully, off of the surface of a rather dusty brass bed, hurtling myself to land painfully against the hard tile of the floor. I stayed prostrate upon the floor for a few moments, collecting my scattered thoughts and doing my best not to put too much weight on the body parts that were aching with each breath that I drew.

Where the devil was I? What sort of odd place had I fallen to? Or was it all inside my head, another imagining of my rather flighty mind, a direct result of my stumble just a few moments before. Yes, that was the likely excuse for all that I'd just experienced. Any moment now I would open my eyes and find that I had just frightened my two charges, Errol and Eugenia Ascot, the twins of Hamish and Olivia Ascot. The parents would be annoyed once they discovered that I had frightened their little monsters with my accident, but their irritation would be nothing compared to that of Hamish's mother, Lady Ascot, who thought that I was a poor excuse for a governess.

I knew that I was sorely lacking in all of the areas that made for a good governess. For one, I was too young, too inexperienced, and approached the job of teacher with far too much enthusiasm, taking more joy in education than my pupils did, especially when learning and studying nature. Lady Ascot also thought that I was wishy-washy, not stern enough in matters that were of importance, things such as my allowing the children to run and play, as opposed to walking briskly, but properly, whilst keeping themselves serious and focused upon behaving in the fashion of a young lady and gentleman. Then there was the issue of my not remembering that I was an employee, and someone of no social or titled importance, who should realize that it was I who must hold my tongue, and not become upset when the children spoke to me as though I were beneath them, because the truth of the matter was that I was beneath them. Lastly and perhaps most damning of all was the fact that I was a Yank, born and raised across the pond, and therefore it was believed that I wasn't capable of any sort of manners or decorum, characteristics that were impossible having been born in a country that's citizens had spent five years fighting amongst themselves.

I closed my eyes, readying myself for the berating that I'd receive once I regained consciousness, but once I'd opened my eyes I found that although I was awake, my surroundings remained the same. Maybe I had finally gone completely around the bend, I mean what other explanation could there be for what I was seeing, what I was feeling? True, that I was given to flights of fancy, but this was a different kettle of fish altogether.

The floor beneath my feet was dirty, tiled in blocks of white and black, and everywhere I turned there was a door to be seen. I cautiously turned several doorknobs, but none offered entrance, which made me more than a little panicky. If I could just find someone, a person in charge who could set me straight, then perhaps I could be on my way home, everything set to right, but if I were the only soul drawing breath, how could I hold any hope of things being normal again?

It was then that I took notice of the table in the center of the room, a wrought iron bodied table with a glass top, which was holding a key. That had to be a spot of good luck for me, an offering for an escape, but when I tried the key in each knob it proved unable to open any of them. The final door was tiny, and I considered bypassing it altogether, but curiosity got the best of me, and in the end I crouched before the miniature door, placed the key in the lock, and found out to my surprise that it was a perfect fit.

That was a reassurance, but one that was short-lived when I contemplated the likelihood that I'd be able to fit myself through the doorway. Even if I were able to fit my head, shoulders and arms through, my rather generous bust would more than likely hinder me from entering any further, and if that didn't stop me then my equally curvaceous backside would.

I moved away from the door feeling rather dejected, cursing my voluptuous figure, something I did frequently since I found myself surrounded by women who were as thin as a buggy whip, their figures neat and trim, with no noticeable curves that made them stand out in a crowd. I had often heard that most men enjoyed a shapely figure on a woman, but I had to wonder where these men had hid themselves, because I had yet to meet any of them myself.

It was then that I noticed that a bottle had appeared on the table where the key had rested, had just appeared, as though by magic. There was a label tied to the neck of the bottle with a piece of ribbon, which read _Drink Me_. That was definitely a curiosity, a phenomenon that I would have no part of. At least that's what I told myself, but in the end, my inquisitiveness got the best of me, propelling me towards the bottle with the intent to investigate only, not to ingest. I uncorked the bottle and took a quick whiff of the contents within and nearly gagged at the putrid odor that assaulted my nostrils. That solved my dilemma quite nicely, because had the liquid smelled like chocolate or strawberries I would have been tempted to partake of it, in spite of the possibility that it were poisoned, but given the fact that the fluid emitted a fragrance which resembled that of rotten food, I wasn't coaxed to try it.

Given the possible dire state of my circumstances I dropped down to the floor beside the table, valiantly fighting back the tears that were threatening to flow. Crying never solved any problems, or so I had been frequently told, and I tried to bolster my spirits with the thought that help would come soon, but in the end I succumbed to my fear and my tendency to feel sorry for myself and started to cry uncontrollably.

I don't know how long I sobbed, long enough for my nose to grow runny, which was a terrible inconvenience, seeing as how I had forgotten my handkerchief...again. I made due with a strip of muslin torn from my petticoat, cleaning up after myself as well as I could, and after I finished I became aware that I was being watched. There were two eyes peering at me from the open doorway of the only unlocked door, a shocking tint of green, with pupils that were larger than what was normal, the right being almost shockingly so. The eyes were surrounded by garish makeup, both pink and blue, and the skin surrounding the eyes was a pasty white. I panicked for a moment, thinking that some sort of brazen light skirt had found me, a soiled dove for a rescuer, but then the person spoke to me, and while the voice was strange, lisping and almost childlike, there was no denying that it was a male.

"Are you illiterate?" the voice asked me, causing me to bristle immediately. "The label clearly states that you are required to drink the contents of the bottle. I'm afraid that we're not going to be going anywhere until you do so."

Well, this is just wonderful. My rescuer has come and he turned out to be an insufferable jackass, made up like some sort of common prostitute. "I am far from illiterate sir," I answered quite haughtily. "I didn't follow the instruction on the bottle because it appeared out of nowhere and the liquid contained within smelled very similar to rotten food."

He sighed, as though he were being forced to deal with a simpleton, when I was an educated woman, with a respectable occupation. "Just drink the blasted potion so that we can be on our way please. Her Highness is most anxious to make your acquaintance, and I have been commissioned to deliver you to her."

Well, that sounded much more promising, an audience with royalty, but how could I be sure that he was really who he claimed to be. Most who were on a mission for a monarch would possess manners that dictated that a gentleman didn't swear in the presence of a lady.

"There's no need for that sort of coarse language," I replied, wincing as I realized that I sounded eerily like Lady Ascot. "And how am I to know that you don't have a nefarious purpose in mind, as opposed to the mission that you have claimed?"

The eyes blinked furiously for a moment, then narrowed. "Gorblimey woman, what sort of man do you take me for? I am here to fetch you for the queen, not to ravish you. Now drink the damned liquid or you really will be given a dose of coarse language."

This was truly beyond the pale, but what other choice did I have? In the end I knocked back the potion with all the finesse of a dockhand gulping a pint of ale, and needless to say I was completely unprepared for the shrinking that took place. I had always wished to be tinier, but this was ridiculous. I don't know what size I ended up, but I do know that the only garment that I was able to clutch to my body; to safeguard me from complete nakedness was my petticoat. My gown had boning built into the fabric, because I personally detested corsets, but now I felt my cheeks burn, wishing that I had placed more beneath my gown that would offer me adequate covering for modesty's sake.

"Well, don't dilly-dally," my tormenter said, with humor evident in his voice as I escaped the fabric of my gown. "We'll get you some more appropriate attire once we reach the castle. I'm positive that McTwisp will have a fresh supply of _upelkuchen_, and once we get you back to your normal height I will present you to her Majesty."

I had no clue as to who this McTwisp was or what in Heaven upel...whatever was, but I held my tongue sauntering out of the door with as much dignity as I could muster at that moment. The sight that awaited me was magnificent, more breathtaking than anything I had ever beheld in my entire life, a sight almost as odd as the man standing, towering above me, tapping his toe with impatience. I had to be dreaming, people like this man didn't exist, but then I felt myself being lifted into the air and placed on his shoulder. I could feel the careworn fabric of his coat, could smell sugar and berries on him, and I knew that he was just as real as I was, and at this moment, my only companion, though not necessarily my friend.

"Have a seat, Miss," he said in a tone that was almost polite, his voice a little more friendly than before and I did as I was told, wondering what sort of adventure, or calamity, would next come my way.


	2. Words That Start With The Letter B

Chapter Two

Words That Start With the Letter B

A/N: Thanks to all who have left a review, added this story or author to an alert and/or a favorite(s) list, the support is appreciated and welcomed.

Beguile-To win and hold someone's attention, interest, or devotion.

Claire's POV

I was very thankful to be riding perched upon the shoulder of this strange looking gentleman...and I use that term lightly...for if I were to be walking the distance to her Highness's palace at my current height it would more than likely take me years to arrive. I would also be too mesmerized by my surroundings to be effective if providing the mode of travel personally, always having to stop and stare at the wealth of beauty laid out before me, a backdrop of splendor and of mystery, both captivating and foreboding in turn.

What would appear at first glance to be lofty treetops were in fact the caps of mushrooms, red and blue spotted with gold. We walked through a garden filled with flowers of every variety, and I gasped upon closer inspection when I saw that a face, humanlike in form, graced each of them. They appeared to be lost in slumber, if you could even fathom the notion that a flower possessed eyes that could close in sleep, yet a few opened their eyes to peer at us as we passed, muttering oddities about "another one" and "not again". I wondered what they could possibly be talking about, but my transport doesn't appear to be in a chatty frame of mind, so I decided not to broach the subject with him. It was rather odd, the level of comfort that I was experiencing, considering the fact that I was riding perched upon a strange man's shoulder, clothed in nothing more than a muslin petticoat. I could feel my bosom jostling back and forth with each step my means of conveyance took, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment when I realized that he was aware of each movement, each reaction that took place when a cool wind drifted across my chest. This went well beyond what was considered proper conduct when in close quarters with a gentleman, and I was thankful that there were no witnesses to my brazen behavior, especially witnesses who would report me to the Ascot's.

A buzzing above my head caught my attention and I watched in rapturous wonderment as two peculiar creatures flitted here and there above me. I suppose that the one insect could be called a dragonfly, in the truest form of that name, a golden hued beast attempting to consume its rival with a burst of fire. The adversary was a horsefly, no...A rocking horsefly and I worried that the dragon would destroy him and exhaled a large breath of relief when the tiny creature made its escape, causing me to wince afterward as I placed pressure on ribs that felt as though if not broken, then they were at least heavily bruised.

"Something you'd like to share with me?" my companion asked, his voice startling me so badly that I nearly tumbled from my perch. He reached out his hand, ghost pale in hue, fingers covered here and there with bandages, some topped with tiny pin cushions of all things, and set me back on his shoulder. "You should really try to be a little more careful," he chided, actually having the audacity to shake his finger at me, as though he were scolding a small child. "If you fell from up there you'd be smashed to smithereens for sure."

I turned to look at him, hoping that every modicum of my anger was evident on my face. "I was simply relieved that the rocking horsefly wasn't destroyed by the dragonfly," I explained, realizing even as I spoke the words aloud how absolutely ludicrous I sounded. "Pardon me if I nearly fell, but I wasn't expecting you to speak to me, and you startled me terribly when you did so."

He looked at me closely, making me painfully aware once more of the fact that I was nearly naked, my modesty concealed only by scraps of muslin. I was taken aback once more by the hue of his eyes, a light green that upon closer inspection was quite lovely, once you moved beyond the odd pupils. In fact, on nearer scrutiny he was actually quite handsome, if you made yourself look beyond the anomalous clothing, pale skin, makeup and carrot orange hair that unfurled from beneath his top hat.

"Most people would be unconcerned with the fate of a simple rocking horsefly," he whispered, a small smile curving his lips. "I suppose that there may be more to you then I'd expected."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that exactly, but it would seem that his desire to talk had passed, and I decided that was fine, because I was suddenly overcome by the need to sleep, my eyelids feeling as though they each weighed a ton, at least. I tried to recline my body to make myself more comfortable, but I found myself clinging to his jacket, desperately trying to restore myself to my sitting position whilst also attempting to avoid a plunge off of my perch, and the same hand grabbed me once more, moving me to where I was resting in the palm of his hand while he studied me.

"I realize that I'm hardly the companion that you would choose Miss," he said, his wooly eyebrows quirking comically at me. "But I should think that my presence would be preferable when plummeting to your death is your other option."

All humor aside, I could see that he truly was convinced that it was a hardship for me to be traveling with him, and while there was no doubt that he had his moments where he infuriated me, I felt a sense of safety near him as I was now, cradled in the palm of his hand.

"On the contrary Sir, I find that I am enjoying your company, especially when you aren't insulting me," I answered, taking enjoyment from seeing a small smile curve his lips once more. "I really owe you a good deal of thanks for coming to my rescue and delivering me to your queen."

He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hand to place me onto the brim of his top hat, a whimsical creation circled by a peach hued ribbon and pierced here and there with a variety of pins, bearing a placard that declared that it sold for ten shillings and six pence. I worried that my weight would bend the brim, but it held up quite nicely, and the material felt wonderful beneath my cheek as I curled up for a short nap.

"Close your eyes and rest your head," my companion's voice floated up to me, calming me as my eyelids grew more and more heavy. "Before you know it we'll be at the palace, and then all will be set to right."

Burgeon-To flourish or develop rapidly.

Hatter's POV

We arrived at Marmoreal, the beatific holding of Mirana, radiant White Queen of Underland. It is a spot that I have called my residence ever since the banishment of the Red Queen and the malevolent fiend named Stayne, but regardless of the welcome offered to me by her Highness it has never really felt like a true home. It was a similar experience like the fact that my vocation as a haberdasher no longer satisfied my soul, despite the fact that I'd once lived and breathed to design, to create my works of art.

My passenger was still soundly asleep, if the soft sighs and delicate snores that were being emitted from the brim of my hat were a true indication. I had caught myself once or twice during our journey feeling her presence on my hat and drawing the conclusion that it wasn't this newcomer to Underland who was asleep on the brim of my hat, but her, the one whose presence I missed, that I craved. In my rare moments of clarity I understood that she was gone, and that she would more than likely never return, but when things got fuzzy for me, when everything started moving too fast, I would become confused once more.

I lifted my hands to remove my hat, careful to keep it level as I lowered it to the tabletop in my quarters. My traveler was still asleep, her hands resting beneath her cheek, looking as innocent as a newborn babe if one ignored the fact that her garment had traveled upward and had bared her legs to my gaze, all the way up to the tops of her knees. Well, really I suppose that would fit with the image of a newborn babe as well, considering the fact that we are unclothed when we make our entrance into the world, but babies generally didn't catch my attention in the fashion that this woman had, not by a long shot.

She was actually quite pretty, more so than I had initially realized. In some ways she was nearly as appealing as _her_, the one who had left me, and in other ways she was actually prettier. That observation surprised me, made me wonder how I could even think such a thing. I suppose that it had started when I took to comparing the two women. The first difference was the obvious one, that this woman was a brunette while the other had been blonde...I think. I also seem to recall that the other's hair was wavy, almost curly, in texture, while this one had hair that while it could be said to be full and thick, it had very little wave to it. I can't recall the shade of the other's eyes, her eyes had proven to be the hardest blow to my heart if I thought of them, but I had taken immediate notice of this new woman's eyes, large and luminous, a warm shade of chocolate brown, that had the ability to convey anger more efficiently than screaming ever could. She was also quite petite, in height at least, or had appeared to be before she shrank. The other had been a little taller, more willowy in build. This woman was generously formed, a soft, curvy figure that invited thoughts into the mind that were very improper.

My perusal of her maidenly delights were interrupted as the door to my chamber flew open with a resounding crash against the wall, causing me to jump, both startled by the unbidden guest and guilt-ridden for having filled my eyes with this woman's bare vulnerability like some sort of odious lecher. The poor woman was shocked out of what had to have been a very peaceful slumber and she sat up quickly, her fear filled eyes flying first to my face and then to that of McTwisp, who was standing behind me, hopping anxiously from one foot to the other.

She shot to her feet and let loose with a scream that seemed to pierce the inner workings of my ears. I wasn't sure what would be the best procedure at that moment, and so I acted on pure instinct, plucking the poor woman up off of my hat brim and holding her, hand curled protectively around her body, close to my chest. McTwisp looked both confused and scandalized by this action, and his nervous hopping gained in speed as he moved towards where I was standing.

"That is highly improper Hatter," the rabbit squeaked, pointing a shaking finger towards my chest. "That woman is barely dressed, you know."

As if I were so dimwitted that a tidbit like that would have passed by without my notice. I was the one holding her in my hand, her soft warmth pressed against both my hand and my chest, making me painfully aware of the appealing figure that the woman that I was protecting possessed. None of that mattered at the moment however, since the woman in question screamed again, the pitch even higher than before, and I was worried that she would pass out from fear as she watched McTwisp bound over to stand in front of us.

"It's a talking rabbit," she stammered, her entire body trembling with terror. "How is that possible? What sort of madhouse have I landed in?"

"Shush now darling," I answered, knowing that now wasn't the moment to be addressing the topic of madhouses. "Blast it all McTwisp, people that look like me are a big enough shock to her, didn't you stop to think of how she would react to a talking rabbit dressed in human clothing?"

"What else would I be garbed in?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion, completely missing the point that I'd made.

I cuddled the young lady close to me and walked forward to escort the rabbit from my quarters, knowing that his presence was too disturbing to her at the moment, and she needed to be dressed and prepared, not to mention returned to her natural height for her meeting with the queen.

McTwisp dragged his large feet, attempting to halt my progress, but it was to no avail. We reached the door and I pushed him outside, but he stuck one paw between the door and the jamb as I closed it, stopping me from dismissing him as I wanted. "Her Majesty expects to meet the young lady in one hour, in the solarium," he yelped, his dander up and running from what he perceived to be inexcusably rude behavior on my part. "And you shall have to restore her to her proper height. Also, why didn't you bring her dress along? What will she wear when she meets her Highness? I hope you can manage a decent dress in less than an hour."

Damnably officious little fur ball, who was he to order me about as though I were a child? "She will be there in an hour," I replied, my temper growing as I placed my foot against that which was obstructing my attempts to close the door. "I will restore her to her proper height; I already made that decision myself, thank you very much. I left her dress behind because to be painfully succinct, it was quite dowdy and the color did absolutely nothing for her beautiful complexion. I will fashion a lovely and proper gown, and we will be on time. I may have lost a good deal of my faculties, if indeed there were any left to lose since _she _left, but I am just as prompt as I ever was, blast it...just as _punctual_...just as _timely_...just as..."

"Hatter!" the rabbit squeaked, his voice breaking me from my impassioned rant just as effectively as a slap to the face would have done. "We'll be there in one hour!" I barked, shoving against McTwisp's foot and slamming the door behind him. I was hesitant to look down, fearful that I had completely ruined any chance that may have existed to befriend this woman, although I was confused as to why I would even want to in the first place.

Curiosity finally got the best of me and I hesitantly lowered my eyes, relief washing over me when I saw that while she looked very bewildered by what she had just witnessed, she didn't look inclined to go into a bout of hysteria, nor was she looking at me as though she was scared or disgusted by me. I realized that it probably was improper for me to continue to hold her in this overly familiar fashion now that the source that had caused her fear was no longer an issue, and I crossed the room to place her on the chair beside my table.

"Is that really your name?" she asked, scooting towards the front of the chair so that her legs were dangling over the side. "I've never met anyone named Hatter before."

"That is what everyone calls me due to my former profession," I answered, rummaging through the contents of my bureau for some _upelkuchen. _"Some just call me Hatter; others address me as the Mad Hatter. It just depends on the person and my relationship with them." I handed her a minuscule crumb of the _upelkuchen_, "Just a tiny bite," I warned, and then placed a robe on the table, for her to wrap herself in once she'd sprung back to her normal height.

I turned my back, affording her some privacy and stifled a chuckle as I heard the tearing of muslin and a muttered curse as she hurried to wrap my robe around her now naked body. I tried to avoid imagining her bare limbs and torso, but after feeling her form pressed into the palm of my hand and against my chest it was rather difficult to ignore. "All right Miss?" I asked, waiting for her reply of affirmation before turning to face her once more. The rosy tincture of her embarrassment furthered her attractiveness, and I was surprised to feel a small stab of something grasp my heart, that while not alarming was unexpected, and I wondered what could possibly be causing me to behave in this fashion.

"What is your given name Sir, if you don't mind my asking?" she inquired, clutching the front of my robe as though her life depended on it.

"I don't mind that you asked," I replied, thinking that it was actually quite nice that she had. "I am Tarrant, last surviving member of clan Hightopp, personal hatters to her Highness."

Her face became sad after I spoke, and it took me a moment to realize that she was reacting in that fashion because I was the only surviving member of my family. How unusual, and nice to see a person who was still capable of expressing empathy for the personal loss of a stranger.

"All of my family is gone as well," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears, which made me just a little uncomfortable. "I know what it feels like to be left all alone."

Well, she knew who I was, but she was still virtually a stranger to me, and I wondered whether it went against her manners for people who had just met to address one another in an informal fashion. "May I ask for your name?" I made the query hesitantly, hoping that I wouldn't offend her with my boldness.

"Oh, of course," she replied, blushing prettily once more as she looked at me, her eyes flitting back and forth as though she were unsure as to where she should rest her gaze. "I should have introduced myself before, when we met. My name is Miss Quinn, Claire Quinn to be exact."

Miss Quinn didn't suit her, not one bit, but the other name, that one grabbed hold of me and brought to mind a thought that I knew I should keep to myself, but oftentimes my mind and my tongue aren't on the same page, unfortunately. "Éclair," I said, more boisterously than I'd originally intended. "Dear me, I adore éclairs! How perfect, darling, that you have been bestowed with such a lovely, and appropriately sweet, name. Now don't keep me in suspense, are you filled with whipped cream or custard? I do hope that it is custard...that's my favorite."

For a moment she looked positively furious, and I realized the full extent of what I'd said, and braced myself for the stinging slap that she was sure to deliver to my face. But after a moment she took a deep breath and rolled her eyes heavenward. "Oh, it's custard to be sure," she replied, her lips curling into a smile that lifted my heart, just the sight of that small smile. "I seem to have lost my chocolate frosting somewhere between home and here however."

"No mind," I replied, happy to be restored into her good graces. "I'm sure that we can find some in the kitchen after you've seen the queen. Right now we need to concentrate on assembling an exquisite gown for you. Something better than that dreary garment you were wearing when you arrived."

"That sounds wonderful," she answered, settling back against the chair to watch as I gathered my supplies, and my cheeks flushed as I came to the realization that I would have to measure her for this gown, and I hoped that I'd be able to do so in a respectable fashion. "And just so you know, my name is _Claire_, not Éclair, though I suppose you could call me Éclair, if you wanted to."


	3. Words That Start With The Letter C

Chapter Three

Words That Start With the Letter C

Captivate-To attract and hold somebody's attention by charm, or other pleasing or irresistible features.

Tarrant's POV

The solarium bustled with highbrow members of the gentry, in addition to those who were employed by her Highness, and then there was Claire and myself, two misfits mixed in amongst those who knew that they belonged. She looked quite stunning, the soft peach of her gown complimenting both the warm brown of her hair and eyes and the slightly bronzed hue of her complexion. She truly resembled a yummy éclair, with the golden tincture of her skin and the darkness of her hair and eyes, but I had a good notion that she would be much sweeter, if I were to have a taste of her.

Now where would an idea as preposterous as that one come from? I could see everyone's face, the horror and the outrage were I to nibble upon Claire's soft and supple flesh. It was just so perplexing to me, these emotions that flooded me each and every time I gazed at her. I had been wallowing in an ongoing bout of despair just that morning, mere hours before, but now I felt giddiness inside, and a longing, that should, by all reasonable means, feel completely wrong to me, but I had to say that it actually felt truer than anything else had in years.

I suppose that a good deal of my heightened awareness of Claire could be contributed to the intimacies of measuring her earlier for the gown that complimented her so well, an action I had performed hundreds of times before. I couldn't understand it at first, the tightness in my chest, the stirring within my heart, and ashamedly, within my trousers, but it hadn't taken me long to realize that it was all due to her, the closeness of her body next to mine, the feel of her beneath my hands, the smell that emanated from her, everything about and of her just fascinated me.

She had blushed throughout the entire fitting, and standing here now, watching her as I was, I recalled the way her eyes had widened, how her breathing had grown shallow when I placed the measuring tape around her waist and had leaned in close to her, our faces only inches apart. It was then that I noticed the golden specks in the chocolate of her eyes, the rim of bluish grey around the iris. It was at that moment that I truly took notice of her lips, the plump fullness that looked soft and inviting. It took all of my strength to stop myself from placing my lips upon hers, an action that I had witnessed, yet never performed. I knew then, as I know now, that I wanted to experience that with her, to feel that softness against my mouth, to be connected to her in that intimate fashion. I wondered to myself if she had ever done that before, the lips on lips thing, and had hoped that if she had that my lips wouldn't be a disappointment to her.

She had been so nervous about meeting her Highness, and I had tried my best to reassure her that all would be well. I could see now, as I watched her from the wall opposite the queen's chair that I had been accurate in my encouragement. She had charmed her Majesty, just as she had charmed everyone in attendance, and I couldn't help but feel a little jealous as I noticed the attention that the men were lavishing upon her. Presumptuous fools, who were they to fawn over Claire, as though they were worthy enough for her, as though they could ever understand or appreciate her. She was an uncommon woman, a diamond of the first water, priceless and extraordinary. It was a fact that caused me a small stab of misery, for I knew that I was unworthy of her as well.

"Are you still feeling a little off Hatter?" a tinny voice cut through my musings, saving me mercifully from a bout with melancholy. "You looked as though you were feeling a wee bit gloomy."

Mally was dressed in a floor length formal gown, complete with corset, it would appear, a shimmery powder blue in color, and I wouldn't have recognized her if she hadn't spoken to me. I wondered what could have possibly happened that would inspire her to do such a thing, when in the past she had proclaimed that she would never lace herself into feminine frippery like that and the first person that tried to convince her to act otherwise would feel the pointed end of her rapier.

"No gloominess here Mally," I answered cheerfully. "I'm quite right as the rain, so to speak. May I admire your gown and profess astonishment to find you garbed in "feminine frippery" this evening?"

It was impossible to tell whether or not my query caused Mally to blush, considering the fact that her face was covered with fur, but she did look as though she were embarrassed, shifting from one foot to the other, tugging at the gown self-consciously. "Now don't be uncomfortable Mally," I said, bending so that I would be closer to eyelevel with my friend. "You look perfectly lovely. You just took me by surprise, that's all."

That seemed to cheer her up, and she stopped her nervous shuffling at once, beaming at me as though I had just hung the moon. She started to speak, but my attention was distracted by the sound of music from the ballroom, the melody carrying down the hall to the solarium. Apparently it had been decided by her Majesty that dancing would take place in the ballroom, and I made my apologies for a quick departure to Mally, intent on offering myself to Claire as an escort, and hopefully, as a partner for the first dance. I saw that she was still standing close to the queen, smiling as she chatted with her, and then I saw a strange man, a flamboyant dandy who seemed to be arrogantly confident approach her from the side, bending low into a bow that was embarrassingly overdone.

I felt a wave of fury crash through me, and I hurried to Claire's side, determined that it would be I, not this vain peacock, who would be the first to waltz with the exquisite lady. It was juvenile of me to act in the fashion in which I was conducting myself, but that was a moot point for me when I saw the prat take hold of her hand, daring to pull the elbow length glove off of her, and then place a kiss to the back of her hand. My rage grew to a point that I was seeing red, infuriated by the immeasurable gall that this snob possessed.

"Good evening Claire," I said, stepping between her and the jackass, plucking her glove from his hand. "I was hoping that you would do me the honor of allowing me your hand for the first dance."

The pompous windbag sputtered angrily, his face growing mottled and contorted with indignation. "Now see here," he trumpeted, placing a meaty paw on my shoulder to keep me from leaving with my lady. "I was already requesting the first dance sirrah, before you interrupted me so rudely. Pray leave us be and find some other chit to prance about with, preferably one who is visually impaired."

Those who were nearby and heard the man's suggestion tittered behind the covers of hands, hankies, and fans, enjoying the man's wit at my expense, but unwilling to show their humor openly, lest there be anyone in attendance who wouldn't approve. It infuriated me that I was being humiliated in front of Claire, but it heartened me somewhat when I saw that she was outraged by what her would-be suitor said to me.

"What are you inferring, sir?" I asked quietly, though my rage was encouraging me to shout like a deranged man. "Am I accurate in my assumption that you are suggesting that I am so hideous that a woman would have to be blind to dance with me?"

His smile grew along with the snickering in the room, clearly enjoying the fact that he was cutting me down in front of so many witnesses. "I'm sure that there a few desperate hags that would be happy to accommodate you, Mad Hatter, but a sublime specimen such as Miss Quinn here is far too superior for an oddity such as yourself."

"I'm an oddity?' I queried, closing the distance between my heckler and I, feeling my eyes grow hot as the anger within me flamed forth from my irises. "Is that what I am then? An _eccentric_...A _nonconformist_...A _crank_...A _novelty_...a bloody _peculiarity_ placed into existence for the sole purpose of providing entertainment for you and your cronies, whilst causing beautiful women to experience debilitating nausea at the mere idea of dancing with me? Is that what I am to you sir?"

He had the cheek to appear as though he were outraged after I finished with my tirade and Claire provided him with more reason for annoyance by sliding her hand into the crook of my arm and smiling up at me, dazzling in the beauty and with the kindness that seemed to reverberate from her being.

"Please escort me to the ballroom, Tarrant," she whispered, turning her back and offering the cut direct to her now rejected suitor. "I believe that you promised me the first dance and I mean to hold you to your word."

Connection-The joining together of two or more people, things, or parts.

Catastrophe-A terrible disaster or accident.

Claire's POV

He didn't dress like anyone that I'd ever known, and gazing around the room as I waltzed in his arms, I noticed that his attire stood out as unique even amongst that of the beings that I'd met since my arrival. He wore all the garments required of a proper gentleman, but the colors and shapes of said clothing were like nothing I had seen on any of the stuffy menfolk back home. I rather liked his style, it suited him perfectly, and it was refreshing to see someone who dressed to suit their personality as opposed to what was modish at the time. There were little touches that had seemed so strange to me on first sight, such as the bandolier fashioned from spools of thread, the ring that was set with a pin cushion as opposed to a stone, and the different colored striped socks, in plain sight due to the shortness of his trousers, but the more I looked at him, the more I grew to see him, as opposed to noticing how he was different, the more I grew to enjoy and appreciate his quirkiness.

We waltzed past the mirrors, ceiling to floor sheets of glass provided so that the dancers could watch themselves, to check both their movements and their appearance, and it took me a moment to realize that the lovely lady in the peach gown was me. Tarrant was very talented in bringing out the best in those he designed for, enhancing every feature that complimented the wearer, even discovering some that they weren't aware that they possessed, whilst also magically masking their flaws. He had fashioned the gown with an empire waist, emphasizing my abundant bosom, but in a way that made me appear to be in ownership of an hourglass figure, something that I'd always wanted, but had never experienced. He had raised the bodice enough that it was modest, showing only a modicum of my rather ample breasts. The cream colored gloves had been a nice touch, and I felt almost regal as I danced around the room, held in the most respectful way in his arms, moving in time to an Underland adaptation of the Johann Strauss II masterpiece, _Tales from the Vienna Woods_.

Speaking of regal women, the Queen hadn't been at all like I'd expected her to be. She had an ethereal quality about her, both in looks and in mannerisms, seeming almost to float upon the ground when she moved. She seemed to be a kind woman, and was obviously beloved by all those she ruled. It was a heartening event to see a monarch who was a fair and just leader, who cared for her subjects, rather than treating them cruelly. She had hinted at an earlier darkness in her kingdom, only recently vanquished, but hadn't been forthcoming with any further information than that passing comment. I had thought to mention it to Tarrant, but in the end I had decided to let it pass.

"Has anyone ever told you that your eyes sparkle when you smile?"

It was a whispered inquiry, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel the warmth of his breath. I shivered then, an automatic response to such an intimate propinquity, and he tightened his arms around me, not improperly, but near enough that my chest rubbed against his, causing me to tremble once more.

"I can't remember anyone telling me that," I answered, staring up into his eyes, which had returned to the lovely peridot green I had grown to admire, rather than the crimson ring that seemed to blaze around his irises when he was angry.

"Well, they do," he answered. "Quite beautifully, like the stars above, as a matter of fact."

It was a highly improper conversation, and he had wrapped me into his arms in a manner that would suggest intimacy, but I couldn't have pulled away from him, even if my life had depended on my doing so. No one had ever even suggested that I was beautiful, no part of me, and to hear him say so, well at least suggest that my sparkly eyes were so, was a heady sensation, making me aware that I was a woman who had the ability to attract a man, something that I'd always doubted in the past. I'd always wanted to marry, to be a doting wife and a caring mother, but at the age of twenty, with no title or good name to fall back on, my chances of making a good match were abysmal, to say the very least.

Had I been at home I would have considered a man like Tarrant to be poor material in as much as a marriageable man was concerned, but that was because I would have been steeped in proper society, where he would have been branded as an oddity, perhaps even as a bedlamite. It was fortunate that I had been introduced to him in his environment, one in which he still stood out as being unique, but when paired with talking animals and plant life, he seemed to be right at home.

"Your eyes are quite handsome as well," I said, shocking myself with the knowledge that I would allow such an observation to escape my lips. "I can't say that I've ever seen a more striking shade of green."

Well, it would appear that there was no end to my brashness this evening. I knew the rules of propriety forbade conversations such as this with someone who was a virtual stranger, right out in front of God and who knows how many witnesses, but I felt the need to convey the assurance that I found him attractive as well. I suppose that it was essential, given the taunts Lord Burley, that odious toad, had heaped upon him earlier, when he had requested my first dance. The very idea that he was hideous, and that only a blind woman, no, I'm sorry, a blind _chit_ would want to dance with him was a cruel falsehood, one perpetrated by a vicious tyrant who possessed neither the looks nor the manners necessary to attract any women himself, who bolstered his own acerbic heart by bullying those who society regarded as outcasts.

"Thank you," he whispered, running his hand in a caress against my back, an action that was inappropriate as well, but felt so good that I wasn't inclined to protest. "Most people find the shade to be offensive, and are disturbed by my pupils as well," he continued, matter of fact in his statement, but I could hear the hurt that lie beneath his words, and it pained me, knowing how he must have felt, being subjected to the ignorance and callousness of those around him.

The song was drawing to a close, making me wish that I had the ability to hold time in suspension. "They're unique," I answered softly, hoping my eyes conveyed to him all of what I was feeling, all that I was too shy to say. "Most people don't respect anything that's different, anything that doesn't fit in amongst the ordinary and the mundane. Believe me when I say that they are wonderful, that_ you_ are wonderful."

He smiled happily and bowed to me as the orchestra played the final note, bending to place a feather soft kiss to the back of my gloved hand, and then straightening to offer me his arm while we exited the dance floor. I was reluctant to leave his side, though etiquette suggested that I should do so, but I was offered neither choice as the doors to the ballroom burst open, revealing the white rabbit named McTwisp, who was employed as herald to the Queen, followed closely by a wide-eyed bloodhound, his body caked with mud, the pads of his paws appearing to be ravaged as though by glass or jagged rock.

The duo captured the attention of all those in attendance, some reacting with confusion, others with curiosity, and even more with revulsion, but the Queen rushed forward at once, bending low to hear the message that had been brought to her by the hound. I looked at Tarrant, hoping that he'd offer up some sort of clue as to what was happening, but he remained silent, watching carefully and nervously as the trio conversed amongst themselves.

The room had grown as silent as a tomb, everyone straining their ears to catch some part of the conversation, and then a few words were spoken loud enough for all to hear. Remarks that sounded like "Earassabeth" and "escape", which meant absolutely nothing to me, but which caused Tarrant to grow even whiter than normal, his eyes widening with horror.

"Bugger me," he whispered, a term that normally would have highly offended me, but now solidified the seriousness of what was happening. "The _Bluddy Behg Hid _is amongst us once more."

It was additional information, but rather than making things clearer, I found myself feeling more confused than ever. Tarrant led me by my hand to one of the chairs resting on the outskirts of the dance floor, indicating that I should take a seat. "What has happened Tarrant?" I asked, knowing that the news must be of the most dreadful nature to have caused everyone such panic, evident as several people started screaming, others ran about, pulling at their hair, their voices reaching a panicky cacophony that sounded like the clucking of a roost full of chickens.

He knelt down in front of me, one of the few in the room that had remained outwardly calm. His eyes were serious, but also they were the calmest that I'd seen them since we met. "Five years afore, on Frabjous Day, a girl named Alice, who had come to us from your land, slay the Jabberwocky, pet beast of Iracebeth, wicked Red Queen of Underland, and elder sister to our glorious White Queen. There was an underground resistance to the Bloody Big Head, counting myself amongst its members, and we had summoned Alice to return to Underland, to act as champion to the White Queen, and she chose to do so, at great personal peril. She took the Vorpal Sword in hand and slayed the Jabberwocky, freeing all of Underland from the cruel oppression of the evil Red Queen."

"What happened to Iracebeth?" I asked, recognizing that this was the "earlier darkness" that the queen had hinted to that evening.

"She was banished to the Outlands, never to be shown kindness or even acknowledgement and ordered never to return, along with her servant, Ilosovic Stayne, Knave of Hearts. There they have remained, for five glorious years, until today."

I knew what he meant, in my heart I grasped every nuance of his words, but I couldn't make myself acknowledge them. This was my first day, in a foreign land, and this couldn't be happening, definitely not. "Surely she wouldn't defy the order of the Queen," I whispered, terrified at the notion that some sort of madwoman was on the loose. "Surely she wouldn't take that risk."

Tarrant looked back at me and smiled sadly, raising his fingers to trail their tips down the curve of my cheek. "I'm afraid that she has darling," he whispered. "She and her minion are on the loose once more."


	4. Words That Start With The Letter D

Chapter Four

Words That Start With the Letter D

Diverge-To separate and go in a different direction.

Decorum-Dignity or good taste that is appropriate to a specific occasion.

Claire's POV

The festive atmosphere had died quickly once the word had spread, quite in the manner of wildfire, that the former Red Queen and the Knave of Hearts had escaped their banishment. As a matter of fact, most of those in attendance had spent several moments racing around like lunatics, throwing those who were smaller and weaker aside as they raced for the doors to make their exit. I was reminded of the previous balls that I had attended topside, when I had never been given the opportunity to dance and swan about with my betters, but had been forced to chase the Ascot children about, doing my best to keep them from setting the drapes on fire.

I had found myself separated from Tarrant, caught up within the mob as they were frantically making their egress from the palace. Fortunately I had managed to escape their hold without serious injury, but I hadn't managed to locate Tarrant, and now found myself wandering around aimlessly, wondering what I should do with myself in this current situation. I hadn't been given a room, and I didn't have any clothes to sleep in, which was a moot point, I suppose, given the fact that I didn't have a bed to sleep in.

Most in my situation would probably seek out the Queen and ask her to provide them with the means and passage back to their home, but that idea was distasteful to me, even with the very real possibility of bloodshed coming my way. My life back in England was really no life at all, with a job that I secretly hated, and not one friend or family member to offer me love and support. There was that to consider, the bleakness of what awaited my return should I choose to leave Underland, not to mention my unwillingness to leave a sweet hearted man with carrot orange hair and peridot green eyes behind, and I realized that staying beneath the ground was the preferable choice for me.

It occurred to me that I could approach Tarrant for assistance, to see if he could find me a place to sleep and perhaps some nightclothes as well. I was sure that he'd be in his room by then, given the lateness of the hour. The only thing that gave me pause was the rumors that would fly if I were seen approaching and entering his private quarters, my motive for doing so speculated back and forth amongst those who lived in the castle. I worried on that for a few moments before concluding that everyone had more pressing issues to worry about at the moment, and would therefore be less inclined to gossip about me and Tarrant, and what the exact nature of our relationship was.

The castle was enormous, with several corridors and countless doors leading to unknown destinations, but fortunately I remembered where I had traveled from earlier that evening and was able to find Tarrant's quarters quite easily. Even if I hadn't remembered the way and had wandered aimlessly about the castle, if my roaming had taken me past the door of his room I would have known it was his, seeing as how it was the only one that I had seen that had a mural upon it, of Underland and all its strange wonders. I should have known that he'd possess creativity beyond that of a tailor and hatter, and there was the proof, an artistic representation which had captured his home beautifully.

I pressed my ear against the door, knowing that it was rude of me to eavesdrop, but reasoning that it would be best to ascertain that he was in his room, alone, before I knocked. It was as silent as a tomb inside, from what I could tell, and I thought to myself that maybe he was with the Queen, planning what they'd do to recapture her sister and the one called Stayne. I knocked once, just in case he was there, and had just started to turn and walk away when I heard the door open, and turned to find him framed in the doorway, his cravat untied, his vest unbuttoned, his coat removed, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, revealing forearms that were very pale but very masculine, the sight of which caused an unfamiliar tightening to take place in my stomach.

"There you are Claire," he said in way of greeting, a smile briefly lighting eyes that were filled with shadows. "I lost track of you in the ballroom and had hoped that you made your way out safely."

"Yes, I'm quite well," I answered, thinking that I was more than likely doing better than anyone else in Underland at that moment. "I would like to apologize for inconveniencing you, but I don't have a room to sleep in and I hesitate to bother the Queen with such an insignificant issue at this time. Is there any way that you could assist me in securing a place for me to sleep tonight?"

I realized that it was a very scandalous conversation for the two of us to be having, but propriety seemed a moot issue at that moment in time, with all that had happened, and the truth of the matter was that I was exhausted, having had a very full day. He seemed taken aback by my request, or at least I assumed that it was a reaction to my query. It took him so long to respond that I began to worry that I had overstepped my bounds, and hastily turned to leave when suddenly he reached out to gently grasp my arm in his hand, holding me in place.

"I wouldn't know where Her Highness would wish you placed," he answered, pulling back on my arm to draw me into his room. "But you are welcome to stay here, with me, for the night. You can have my bed and I will sleep on the settee."

Even with the separate sleeping arrangements, the idea of sleeping here, in his room with him, was downright scandalous. Not that there was anyone around who would give a second thought to the impropriety, but I had been raised to comport myself in the manner of a proper lady. There was that to consider, along with the fact that he was a man whom I was developing a growing fondness for, so my relationship with him was slowly evolving as well, at least as far as I was concerned. It was an absolutely preposterous admission on my part, since we'd only met that morning, and upon our first meeting I had thought him to be an insufferable jackass, but the truth of the matter was that I found myself more and more attracted to him each time I was near him.

"I promise that I will conduct myself in the manner of a perfect gentleman," Tarrant whispered knowingly, and the knowledge that my thoughts were read so plainly on my face made me blush. It seemed that was all I ever did around him, flush crimson with embarrassment and go weak in the knees whenever he brushed his hand against me.

"I have no reason to fear you," I answered; walking into his room with what I hoped was an air of self-confidence. "Nor do I possess any doubts about your ability to resist my overabundance of charm."

That last bit had been spoken in jest, in an attempt to bolster my bravado, but all courage within me fell flat when he reached out and took hold of my hand and drew me close to his side, almost embracing me completely. My heartbeat, which had already accelerated when I had noticed the muscular pallid flesh of his forearms, sped to an extent that I was growing lightheaded, the tightening in my stomach traveling a little further south, bringing me another sensation which I had read about, but had never experienced personally...the heady rush of arousal.

"I can resist them because I have to," he said, his eyes boring into mine as he held me tight against his side. "But don't make the mistake of assuming that I am immune to just how tempting you are, my sweet Éclair."

Just as quickly as the moment had begun, then it was over, and Tarrant was releasing me, causing me nearly to stumble as he pulled away from me. My clumsiness gave me another reason to blush, and this time it was a flush born both of feeling foolish for being so caught up in the feel of him so close to me that I stumbled when I was denied that sensation, and also the stirring awareness that he was attracted to me as well, something that I'd already had a good idea of, a theory that had now been confirmed for me.

"You'll need a good nightgown," he said, coming to the same realization that I had in that my only other garment that would suffice was my petticoat, which would have been scandalous considering the diaphanous quality of the material, not to mention the fact that my breasts would jiggle around quite freely beneath the material, unbound as they were. It was quite a wicked sensation, going without unmentionables beneath my gown, but Tarrant had made the garment well enough so that I was covered completely, and restrained in as much as the shaking of the fuller parts of my figure were concerned.

"I have just the fabric for you," he said, moving to the trunks where he kept his material and bringing forth a leaf green cloth that had the appearance of a fine challis textile, patterned with small, golden hued butterflies, well, bread and butterflies, as it were. He held the cloth beneath my chin and smiled, "Yes, this will compliment you quite nicely."

I was used to practical cheviot for every day and flannel for nightwear, so an offering of first a gown made from finery, followed by this newest contribution made everything almost too overwhelming to bear. I ran my fingertips along the surface of the silky fabric, feeling the moisture welling in my eyes, and I tried to turn my face away from him, not wanting him to see and misinterpret my tears. He was quite astute at sensing the changes in my emotions however, and his face softened as he looked at me, and he replaced the material underneath my face with a finger curled beneath my chin, and raised my face so that I was looking into his eyes.

"I don't know who is responsible for making you think that you aren't worthy of the finer things in life," he said, reaching up his index finger to stroke the digit gently across my lips. "But I hope that you'll believe me when I say that you are one of the most beautiful creatures that I have ever beheld, and you deserve to have only the finest in life, my darling girl."

That bit of information did more than lift my spirits; in fact I felt as though I could fly at that moment, I was weightless from his words and the caress of his fingertip. I felt compelled to seek out his lips and place my own against them, thinking how soft the full flesh would feel, I found myself driven by curiosity, by the need to know how a kiss felt, but in the end I drew back, thinking that I must uphold some sense of restraint in my actions.

"Now then," he continued, moving away from me to the table that held his sewing machine, taking a seat behind the contraption and readying it with a spool of gold thread. "I would love to measure you again, to pretend that I have forgotten your sizes, but that would be dishonest and vulgar behavior on my part. It will only take a few moments to whip this up for you, so please make yourself comfortable in the meantime behind the changing screen and I'll have it ready for you in a jiffy."

Desire-To want something very strongly.

Tarrant's POV

I would have thought that I'd be safe on the settee taking rest in the same room as Claire, near to her, but not next to her. That's why it came as such a shock to find myself restless, tossing and turning, as much as the narrowness of the settee would allow without me falling to the floor, consumed by a painful awareness of the fact that she _was _near me, sleeping a short distance from where I lay, the sweet and musky scent of her traveling across the room to bedevil me.

I hadn't taken into account just how acute my attraction to her was when I suggested that she sleep in my room, but the longer she'd been in residence the more aware I'd become. The epiphany of just how much I wanted her had hit me as I watched her as she disrobed behind the dressing screen, changing from her peach hued gown into the nightdress I'd made for her, the lamplight behind her illuminating her lush curves, so much so that the screen seem to disappear, leaving her naked and magnificent before me. I knew that I was the worst sort of roué for peeping at her, but once I'd glimpsed the outline of her form I couldn't look away, and a shameful swelling had taken root within my trousers and made me painfully aware of the arousal she inspired in me.

I had experienced swelling like the kind I was suffering from several times throughout my life, and in the past I had soothed the ache myself, finding it to be too difficult to ignore the engorgement with the hope that it would just go away on its own. I was tempted to remedy it once more, convinced that Claire was sleeping soundly and wouldn't awaken to find me engaged in such a reprehensible activity, but in the end I decided against it, knowing that she could wake up at any moment and how could I hope to have any sort of acceptable explanation for such appalling behavior.

I was wrestling with these thoughts and emotions when a whimper sounded forth from Claire, nearly causing me to cry out with alarm, having been so entangled in my personal dilemma. I raised myself on the settee, turning to see that she had a terrified expression on her countenance, with yet another sob spilling forth from her as she tossed her head back and forth upon her pillow.

"No, please don't hurt him," she cried, her voice sounding like that of a small child, pitiful and supplicating in resonance. "He didn't mean to do it. Please, mister, please don't hurt him."

I rose from the divan and moved towards the bed, calling her name softly with the intent to wake her, as gently as possible. Her whimpering had grown more intense, so that she was now sobbing, tearing at her hair as she writhed upon the bed.

"She didn't do anything at all!" she cried, her pleading consuming every part of her voice, the sound like that of a wounded animal. "Please don't...Please don't...Why are you doing that to her?"

Her sobs were quickly turning into screams and I rushed to the bed, darting across the mattress and capturing her into my arms. "Shush, Claire darling," I said, smoothing her hair away from her face, waking her so that she might escape whoever it was that was terrorizing her. She freed herself from the web of the nightmare with a startled gasp and cry, throwing her arms around me and sobbing when she saw that she was safe, with me, in my room.

"It's alright Claire," I crooned, rocking her gently in my arms. "You're awake now and you're safe. Please don't cry anymore, darling."

It took quite a while to soothe her, to reassure her that all was well, but soon she had calmed in my arms, the last of her shuddering cries dying away as I lay down on the bed with her, still holding her tightly against my body. It was obvious to me that her nightmare had its roots in a memory, a distant terror that had surfaced and attacked when she was at her most vulnerable, but I also realized that this wasn't the time or place to delve into that remembrance unless she brought it up on her own.

"Please don't leave me Tarrant," she whispered brokenly, her fingers playing with the buttons of my shirt, the tips slipping into the gaps between the closures, her knuckles brushing lightly against my skin, a sensuous action that she probably wasn't even conscious of. "I don't want to be alone right now."

She hadn't been alone in the room, I'd been there with her, but I knew that wasn't what she meant, and I understood her need for the comfort of a warm body to snuggle against, someone who could offer security and support. "Don't worry my sweet little Éclair," I murmured, tightening my arms around her and brushing my lips against her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," she whispered, relaxing her body against me, her breathing growing deep and even within just a few moments, finding peaceful slumber much sooner than I'd anticipated for her. It was a good feeling, to know that she felt safe with me, that she depended on me. It wasn't going to be easy, to ignore the urges that beckoned to me as I felt her soft warmth pressed against me, each curve evident to me with every breath that I took, her bouquet filling my nose and driving me to distraction. It would be a difficult lesson in self-restraint this night, a sensual torment that would more than likely keep me awake for hours, but given the bond created between us I wouldn't have given this moment up for anything. I didn't know when I would accomplish it, and I didn't know how I would make it happen, but one way or another I'd have her for my own.

A/N: It is always embarrassing to admit a mistake, but I'll just have to make due with blushing when I tell you that I mistakenly referred to Tarrant as a haberdasher when in fact he's actually a hatter. Please accept my sincerest apologies to all of you for this error on my part.

Haberdasher-A dealer in men's clothing and accessories.

Hatter-A maker or seller of hats.

Or he could be a Milliner-Somebody who designs, makes or sells hats for women.


	5. Words That Start With The Letter E

Chapter Five

Words That Start With the Letter E

Enthrallment-To delight or fascinate somebody thoroughly, engaging that person's attention completely.

Tarrant's POV

A week had passed since the news was received that Iracebeth and Stayne had escaped from their isolation, one week of scouring the countryside, searching high and low, with no sign of the fugitives, and it had just occurred to those of us who were acting as advisor to Her Majesty that we should consult the Oraculum to see if this horrific event had shown itself in the parchment, and if so, then perhaps it would offer us with the solution to our predicament. We hadn't really paid much attention to the scroll since the happenings of Frabjous Day, but now it seemed as though it would be a possible asset to us once more.

Honestly, it made me feel more than just a little feebleminded to have overlooked this possible option for as long as I had, but I had been more than a little occupied as of late, enjoyably diverted, as it were. It had been so long since I'd actually felt happy, and even with the grim atmosphere hanging over my head I still had a reason to smile with each sunrise that greeted me, and Claire was the last thing I thought of each night as I laid down to sleep. It truly was a shame that the Queen had managed to find suitable quarters for her so quickly, it had been very nice for me to hold her in my arms that night. I suppose that it was all for the best, after all, there was her reputation at court to consider, and the last thing that she needed was to endure the whispers and titters from the few members of the gentry which had taken up residence inside the palace.

It made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever, their misguided belief that they were safer here then they would be in their own homes. I had to wonder if they actually grasped the concept of what security was, because Iracebeth would be looking for retaliation against her sister, who was the White Queen, that would be the fire fueling her rage, and they had ensconced themselves in the home of Her Majesty, for _safety_...hmm...and yet they accused me of being mad. It made me wonder, at times, whether or not I'm actually one of the few in residence in Underland who's sane.

We were having our daily meeting in the solarium, the unofficial war room, as it was, Her Highness, McTwisp, Mally, Bayard and I, and we unrolled the Oraculum on the table in the middle of the room. I passed my eyes over Frabjous Day as quickly as I could, doing my best not to look at her...no, damn it all, I had to make myself say it...doing my best not to look at Alice, and further and further down there it was, a definite break in time, continuing now onto a different line. The solution would come, it would seem, in six months' time, yet another war would be fought between the White and the Red, and a new champion had been selected to take up sword in hand, only this time it would appear that it would be the heads of Iracebeth and Stayne that were the intended sacrifice to the blade.

"Behold," her Highness spoke, pointing to the scroll. "There will be a day named Gninokcer, six months hence, in which a new champion will step forward and grasp the Vorpal Sword, saving us once and for all time from my horrid sister. It also would seem that many will fall away from us, some have already switched loyalties, but we will rally around our guardian and hold fast, and we will overcome this campaign just as we were triumphant on Frabjous Day."

All eyes in the room, save those of Her Majesty traveled my way, watching to see what my reaction would be to the news that we had all stood proud on Frabjous Day. It was true that freedom had been healing for me, a balm for a heart and soul which held many old scars, but new wounds had also been inflicted on me that day, the day that Alice had left me and the rest of Underland behind.

I looked at the scroll closer, having some difficulty discerning the identity of our new champion, and upon closer inspection her face cleared, and my heart seemed to drop out of my chest and land somewhere in the vicinity of my feet when I saw the luminous eyes, and the full lips which were curved into a murderous snarl. I closed my eyes, hoping that I had been mistaken in what I had seen, but when I opened them the face remained the same, and I raised my eyes to look at Her Highness for confirmation, a last-ditch effort to have my fears allayed, but the affirmation that I saw staring back at me dashed all hopes that I had been erroneous in what I saw.

"Blast and damnation," I hissed beneath my breath, earning me a stern look of reprimand from McTwisp, the sanctimonious little fuzz ball. "How am I to break this to her, Majesty, if I may be so bold to ask."

The Queen straightened, holding her hand against the small of her back in an attempt to ward off the tension that had knotted the muscles there, a fact I was aware of due to the fact that I was experiencing the same pain myself. "There is no need to tell her anything right now," she answered, turning to look pointedly at the door. "She has enough worries on her mind and weighing on her heart as it is. This news will keep for a day or two."

It was at that moment that there sounded a timid knock upon the door and McTwisp hopped over to admit the lovely vision of Claire, a welcome lightening to my day and to my mood. I felt my disposition brighten and my spirit revitalize, and I pushed the disturbing knowledge that I'd learned to the back of my mind, determined to enjoy her visit, despite the unpleasant news.

She had been overjoyed when I fashioned an entire wardrobe for her, depleting my stores of materials and adornments to fashion several day dresses, formal gowns, nightclothes, and accessories for her. It had been a little embarrassing for her to see the fine unmentionables that I had created, from soft cambric and smooth silk, but I had sensed that she was quite pleased with them as well. I had found talents that I wasn't aware I possessed when I fashioned a pair of slippers from soft kid leather, to replace her hideous cumbersome boots. Apparently I could add cobbler to my list of abilities. I had finished the collection with a lovely forest green pelisse, made of a sumptuous velvet, and a very fine hat, if I do say so myself, a leghorn with a cream hued ribbon around the crown, with grosgrain follow-me-lads, in the same hue of cream with a hint of rose, trailing down her back. It wasn't the fanciest of hats, but when a lady was as lovely as Claire, they required little ornamentation or you ran the risk of gilding the lily, or so I personally believed.

She was wearing the light blue dress, the one fashioned from faille with an overlay of white chiffon, with floral themed embroidery. She had the ideal figure for a gown with an empire waist, with voluptuous curves that I had concealed somewhat with the overlay; so that my jealous nature wouldn't be forced to contend with the roaming eyes of those who would wish to feast their gaze upon her curvaceous figure. Thankfully, there wasn't much of that to cope with in the solarium, considering that the only other males in attendance were McTwisp and Bayard, and neither of them had much interest in the human female form.

She walked towards me, greeting everyone in turn, with a proper obeisance to Her Highness, and then she stopped before me, dipping into yet another curtsy just for me, making me feel as though I were the most important person in the room, even though I knew that I wasn't. "Good afternoon, Tarrant," she said in greeting, blushing prettily as I bowed to her and kissed her hand. "I hope that I haven't intruded upon your conference, Your Majesty," she said, turning to speak directly to the Queen, an action that must have been a faux pas in her world because she immediately started stammering nervously, with hasty movements of genuflection. "Pray forgive my ill-mannered behavior, Your Highness," she stuttered, making me wish that I could help her in some way, but it wasn't my place to comfort her at that moment.

The Queen strolled over to where Claire stood worrying, her movements graceful and delicate, as always. "Don't worry so, child," she said, placing her hand beneath Claire's chin, raising her face so that she could place a kiss upon her cheek. "I'm not one to stand upon ceremony at a time like this, especially with someone that I look upon as my friend. Come now everyone; let us give Tarrant and Claire time to spend with one another."

Bless her for the dear woman that she was, both for appeasing Claire's unease so thoroughly and for sensing that I wished to be alone with my lady. They all swept quickly out of the room with only Mally turning to look at me for a moment, as though she was having second thoughts, but that was just Mally, overprotective as always.

I turned to the table, intending to pull out a chair for Claire to sit in, but then I saw the Oraculum, which I hadn't remembered to put away, and neither had any of the others. I hastily rolled up the scroll, shielding the future from her eyes, but I wasn't quick enough to block Frabjous Day from her, and I noticed her sweep a fleeting glance across the paper, curious but not overly so, but as quickly as she looked away her eyes then flew back to the parchment, widening with shock as they took in the image of Alice and the Vorpal Sword, standing in defiance of the Red Queen and the Jabberwocky.

"That's Alice Kingsleigh," she said, looking at me with questioning eyes. "She's the Alice who saved Underland from the White Queen's sister?"

I knew that they had come from the same area, and that she had fallen down the same hole that Alice had, but I never would have even entertained the possibility that they knew one another. Damnation, this was a situation that increased in hairiness with each passing day.

"Yes, Alice Kingsleigh traveled to Underland first as a small child, then again five years ago when she returned to act as champion for her Highness. How are you acquainted with her? Do you know her well? How is she?"

I hadn't intended to ask so many questions, or to sound as eager as I did when doing so, and sadness filled her eyes, as though something had been taken away from her, a something that she was very attached to. I realized then that she must have heard the rumors which I was positive still circled 'round the castle, the tales of my broken heart and yearning for a girl named Alice. Blast and hellfire, this was a pickle of a mess that I'd landed myself in.

I was prepared to explain things to her, to make her see that I had changed, that I wasn't that melancholy fool longing for yesteryear, but she whispered an apology, and said that she had to leave, and was gone before I could speak another word, leaving me standing in the middle of the cheerful solarium, so that I could regret both the words that I had spoken and the ones that I hadn't been given the chance to say.

Explanation-A statement giving reasons for something or details of something.

Claire's POV

I normally wasn't given to bouts of despair, but sadness had most definitely taken root in me. I sat on one of the benches in the Queen's garden, surrounded by trellises on which honey bun suckle and get up in the morning-glories blossomed beautifully and fragrantly. I could feel that I was working up to a good crying jag when I heard the swishing of skirts and the lyrical humming that I knew to belong to the Queen, and I did my best to wipe my tears away, lest she suspect that something bad had happened between Tarrant and me.

She glided over to where I sat and took the space next to me, not looking at me nor commenting on my tearstained cheeks. "Isn't this a wonderful place to sit?" she asked, turning to look at the flowers, taking a deep breath to fully enjoy the heady perfume of the air. "I like to come here when my mind is troubled, or when my feelings have been hurt. Wouldn't you agree that this bench is surrounded by perfection that reaches out and soothes your spirit?"

It was a beautiful spot, there was no denying that, but I hadn't quite been able to pull myself completely from my melancholy, despite the wonderment of my surroundings, but I wasn't about to carryon about all of that to the Queen.

"Most definitely, Your Majesty," I replied, my words sounding watery and lackluster. "It is a picturesque spot indeed."

She turned to look at me and smiled knowingly. Despite what I had thought would be a convincing affirmation, she knew that I was merely answering in the positive out of politeness.

"Did you take notice of Mr. Hightopp's coat when you joined us today?" she asked, turning to look at the flowers once more. "Wouldn't you say that he looked much cheerier today than he normally does?"

I thought back and remembered that she was right. His coat had been a bright shade of blue, vibrant and handsome, whereas the hue was usually that which could be said to resemble a tourmaline, lovely in its shades, but not nearly as vivid as the blue had been today.

"Yes, Your Highness," I answered. "It was quite a dazzling shade of blue."

"That's correct," she said, shocking me by reaching over to pat my hand, a friendly gesture that I hadn't anticipated. "Mr. Hightopp's clothing mirrors his spirits, changing with his highs and lows. He's worn that shade before and it signals that all is well with him, that he is happy. He loved Alice, and it broke his heart, nearly destroyed him when she left, but bear this in mind. _You _brought back his happiness; you are the one who inspired that shade. You...not her...so please don't have any doubt of just how important you are to him, my dear."

Her words lifted my heart, and made me realize that I had behaved like a ninny, by not giving Tarrant the benefit of the doubt, and automatically leaping to the conclusion that he didn't care for me, that it was Alice Kingsleigh he wanted, not me. What he must think of me now, for behaving in such a manner. I knew that I ought to go, that I ought to find him and apologize, but how could I take my leave when I had to think of decorum, and that which was proper behavior when one was in the company of a Queen.

I was saved from my anxiety over the need to speak with Tarrant, and from my fear of committing some other sort of social blunder when a familiar figure stepped around from behind a tree, his turquoise jacket splotched here and there with the tourmaline shades once more. He was holding his hat in one hand; the other was clutching the pelisse that he had made for me.

"Pardon my intrusion Highness," he said, bowing to Her Majesty. "And to you as well, Claire," he said, bending to me as well, his eyes worried, yet hopeful as they searched my face. "I saw that you had stepped outside without your coat, and I was worried that you might be chilled."

"I forgive both the intrusion and the eavesdropping, Mr. Hightopp," she answered, causing Tarrant to turn his eyes downcast, a sheepish smile curving the corner of his mouth. "Now if you will both excuse me, I'll take my leave for the second time today, affording you some privacy. Please use it wisely and keep your minds from entertaining false conclusions."

She stood and glided away, smiling back at us over one shoulder. I watched her until she was out of sight and then turned my gaze to Tarrant. "May I please sit beside you?" he asked softly. I nodded and gestured to the space that the Queen had just vacated. He started to sit, and then paused, "Are you feeling chilly?" he asked, gesturing with his hands, holding my pelisse as though to place it around my shoulders. "Yes," I replied, nodding my permission. "I am a little cold."

That seemed to please him and he placed the luxurious velvet garment around my shoulders, wrapping me in soft warmth before he took his seat. We sat there for a moment, me staring off into space, him staring at his hat in his hands, turning it slowly while he ran his thumb over the brim.

"Were you really eavesdropping?" I asked, turning to smile at him, hoping to lighten the moods running between us somewhat, the words leaving my mouth before I realized that I might have embarrassed him.

"Yes, I was," he replied, refusing to meet my eyes. "I apologize for stooping to that sort of action, but I was afraid to show myself and what I heard clarified a few things for me."

"What did you need to have clarified?" I asked, staring at him until he met my gaze.

"I needed to know that you were upset, and that the reason that you were upset was because you thought that I had played you false, passing the time with you, but always holding out the hope that Alice would return."

"I was upset," I answered, moving over slightly, putting myself as close to him as I dared. "To answer your earlier inquiries, Alice runs the operation of her father's shipping company, along with my employer's father, Lord Ascot. I have made her acquaintance, but I don't really know her very well. She's a very pleasant and very beautiful woman, and she seems to be happy with her life. Was that what you wanted to know?"

"Yes, it was," he murmured, shocking me by reaching over to take my hand with his own, running his thumb in a bold caress over the top of my hand. "I loved her, I mourned her after she left, but what you thought was yearning this afternoon was merely curiosity. I will always have a soft spot in my heart for Alice Kingsleigh, but she doesn't have ownership of my heart, sweet Éclair. And while she is indeed very lovely, she doesn't quite hold the appeal for me that a certain brown-eyed beauty does."

My heart was pounding in my ears by this time, but miraculously enough, his words still managed to make their way past the thumping. He was watching me so intently that I almost felt as though I was bared before him...Heavens, what a scandalous thought for me to be having. He continued to stroke my hand and then his eyes dropped from mine, to land upon my mouth. He watched my lips for a moment, raising his eyes to meet my gaze, and then lowered them once more. He released my hand and cupped my face gently, leaning in close to me, so that I could see myself reflected in his eyes.

"May I?" he whispered, gazing once more at my lips, his eyes closing as he leaned in closer to me.

"Yes," I whispered, my eyelids fluttering closed, my breath catching in my throat as he pressed his lips gently against my own, a feather soft touch that lasted for just a moment, a second but also an eternity. Once, twice, and then a third time he caressed me before drawing back, and I was delighted to see the vibrant blue of his jacket almost seeming to glow as dusk took root in the garden.

"First time that it's been that bright in five years," he whispered, pulling me close to his side with an arm around my shoulders. Rumors would fly if anyone was to come upon us this way, but I decided that I really wasn't concerned by what gossip might spread. This was something I'd wanted from the night that I danced in his arms, and I wasn't going to miss a moment of it.

A/N: In the novelization of the film, when Alice saw herself depicted on Frabjous Day, she saw her face, bloodlust evident in her eyes, while in the film she just saw the back of her head. I used the version from the book in this story.


	6. Words That Start With The Letter F

Chapter Six

Words That Start With the Letter F

Façade-The way something or somebody appears on the surface, especially when that appearance is false or meant to deceive.

Claire's POV

It was very difficult to get through the baking of a cake when you are constantly ducking down to avoid being hit in the head by the sugar bowl or the butter dish, materials being flung left and right by a downright temperamental animal. I had expected the March Hare to behave more in the manner of McTwisp, the prompt and proper herald to her Highness, but Thackery Earwicket was an altogether different being. His nerves seemed to be constantly frayed, and more often than not he seemed confused, losing track of who and where he was.

"Always underfoot, scattering around like a horde of cockroaches, scurrying here and there and hiding from the light," he muttered, attacking a bowl of egg whites so vigorously with his whisk that they had foamed and peaked within moments. I had mistakenly assumed that he was speaking to me the first couple of times that I'd heard him grumbling beneath his breath, but after dodging a spoon here and a mixing bowl there, I'd learned to pretend that I couldn't hear him speaking.

"Never needed anyone's help before, bloody well don't need it now," he continued, throwing a resentful glance at me from the corner of his eye. So that was it, he thought that the queen had sent me to him as an apprentice, when the truth of the matter was that I had requested to work in the kitchens, desperate for some sort of occupation that would make me feel useful as opposed to useless. I would have explained this to Mr. Earwicket if I hadn't been worried what the repercussions for doing so might have been.

"Too much butter you daft ninny!" he suddenly bellowed, charging towards me to snatch the pan that I'd been applying the butter to out of my hands. "No one wants to eat a big buttery mess when it's cake they're wanting," he continued, waving the pan back and forth in front of my face, causing me to move backwards, not stopping until my backside was pressed firmly against the side of the worktable. "None of those namby-pambies are going to want shiny lips, butter making them shimmer like the sun on a summer day. They want things neat, all in order, not one blasted thing out of place you silly cow!"

Now that was just pushing things too far. I understood his desire to have his kitchen to himself, after all it was his domain, but who was he to verbally abuse me, especially with something so nasty as to accuse me of having bovine characteristics. I would imagine that any woman who has a fuller figure would be especially insulted by that type of comment. "Now you see here," I said, taking over the role of aggressor quite easily, pushing myself away from the table, feeling a small thrill of empowerment when he backed away from me. "You don't want me here, I can understand and even respect that, but I will not be bullied by you, nor will I be spoken to in that fashion. Do you comprehend what I am saying to you Mr. Earwicket?"

He lowered the pan, which he'd brandished at me as a weapon, somewhat reluctantly to his side. "I understand a great many things," he answered, in a rare moment of clarity. "I see things that no others will acknowledge, rivers of discontent and treasonous behavior flowing just as they did while the Bloody Big Head and her underlings were on the loose. The writing is on the wall once more and it's time to pick a side. The time has come for all of us who call Underland home to choose our fight, one way or another. I had to test you, had to see if your heart was true and your mind was strong. I haven't made up my mind just yet, but I'd say that there's hope for you, even if you are just a touch scatterbrained."

I had no clue as to what he meant by testing me, about my heart and my mind, what could he possibly be testing me for? I was inclined to chalk up his words as yet another show of erratic behavior on his part, but his eyes were clear, and his body was still, with none of the harried movements that he usually possessed. I was set to question him further, I could see that he wanted me to make inquiries of him, but I was stopped in my quest for further information when the door to the kitchen opened, and an unfamiliar man stuck his head through, looking around the room until his eyes met mine.

"Begging your pardon, miss," he said, with his words slow and careful, the manner of someone who had grown up speaking improperly and was now attempting to hide that fact. I know that method of speech, given the fact that I had practiced it myself every day for the past six years. I thought that I detected a hint of the South in his voice, a dialect that I had to stifle each and every day, but that couldn't be, could it?

"I was supposed to meet a colleague of mine for tea in the Rose Salon, but I'll be jiggered if I can find that room. Could you tell me where I might find it?"

I knew the location of the room that he was searching for, but tea had been served there nearly an hour before, so he must have mixed up his times. I started to tell him as much but was interrupted by Mr. Earwicket, who had leapt full force into his twitching and muttering and now turned his unstable attentions towards the man who was both lost and confused.

"Anyone who searches shall find, if their purpose is true, but you are false, your words are twisted and gnarled, with only destruction in mind. You and your conspirator will soon fall and your evil deeds will be known by all, that you have destroyed and that you have consumed. On top of all of that you are too late for tea!"

The last word was shouted as the Hare threw the cake pan that I'd buttered at the poor man's head, causing him to duck, but unfortunately not quickly enough. I heard the metal clang as it met his skull and I cringed, thinking how painful that must have been. Fortunately for me, my reflexes had been a tad faster, thus affording me the time to avoid being hit by Mr. Earwicket's pitches of whatever was within his reach.

The man's face had grown quite mottled from anger and his robust frame was shaking while a muscle in his jaw pulsated dangerously, bringing to mind a bull that my father had owned who was quite ill-tempered, and one that you didn't dare to turn your back upon. There was also something else in him at that moment that made him seem very familiar to me, frighteningly so, but I couldn't place my finger on what it was exactly.

"Damn you to perdition, you idiotic rat," the man hissed, crossing into the kitchen and slamming the door behind himself. "I'm gonna skin you and use your hide for a nice warm pair of gloves."

I was panicked at that moment, wondering how things could have escalated so quickly. True, that Mr. Earwicket had taunted him and had said some truly scandalous things, but his reaction was that of someone whom the words had held some truth for. He was making his way towards the Hare, his movements sure and calculated, and I couldn't say what motivated me to act in the manner that I did, but I felt the need to protect Mr. Earwicket, in spite of the fact that he was a cantankerous old bully who had the tendency to rant and rave like a madman.

I reached behind myself and snatched up a large knife, the kind used to fillet slabs of flesh from bones and though I was shaking, I resolutely made my way forward to place myself in front of the Hare. I was probably quite amusing, were anyone to be watching as an outside observer, obviously terrified by standing up to this intimidator, but unable to back down either.

"Stand down this instant, sir," I ordered, pleased to hear that my voice did not betray me to reveal my terror, though there was no doubt that my eyes and the trembling of my body conveyed that already. "Mr. Earwicket spoke out of turn, there's no denying that fact, but you will not carry out any violence against him, not while I'm here to stop you, sir."

He cocked his head to the side, as though he were weighing the seriousness of my words, and although I was terrified, I refused to back down. "You've got a lot of piss and vinegar in you, missy," he chortled, seeming to find a great deal of humor in my attempt to safeguard Mr. Earwicket. There it was, thicker now that his temper had been stoked, that twang that marks a Southerner's voice, a distinct accent evident to anyone who normally carried a touch of honey in her voice as well. That gave him away just as if he'd asked the Hare for a plate of grits and fatback, along with his rather colorful turn of phrase, which while common amongst the populace of the South, was never heard across the pond.

"And you're a stranger in this land, sir," I answered, causing his eyes to widen briefly with shock. He didn't speak another word, backing away instead, watching both me and Mr. Earwicket as though we were deadly adders, both baring our fangs in the manner that denotes an imminent attack.

I breathed a sigh of relief as he made his exit, the door slamming shut behind him once more, feeling grateful that it was an angry departure, rather than entrance this time. I felt some of the tension leave my body, nearly causing me to sink down to the floor, my knees suddenly feeling as though they were too weak to support the weight of my body. I felt an almost overwhelming urge to run from the room and seek Tarrant out, wishing that I could throw myself into his arms and just be held by him for an hour or two, but I knew that he was very busy with Her Majesty, and that I wouldn't see him before the evening repast, more than likely.

"Thank you kindly, Miss Claire," a normally hostile voice whispered next to me. "I must say that you have just alleviated any doubts that I might have harbored about your suitability for the duty which you have been chosen to perform. You have a true warrior spirit in your heart Miss, and a mind that belongs to you alone. Pray forgive my earlier behavior and let us wipe our slate clean, shall we?"

I still had no idea what he was referring to, about my duty, whatever it was, but I determined that more than likely it was just the delusional rambling that he was prone to, and I could overlook that in an effort for us to get along with one another.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea to me, Mr. Earwicket," I responded, crossing the kitchen to retrieve the pan that he'd tossed at the unpleasant oaf's skull. "I would like to finish my cake as a gift for Tarrant, ah, rather that is, as a gift for Mr. Hightopp."

The Hare's eyes twinkled knowingly at me as we walked over to the worktable. "I see that you were intending on a hellfire and brimstone devil's food cake," he said, peering at the recipe book that I had been perusing. "Might I suggest that you make a strawberry and whipped cream squat cake instead? That is the Hatter's favorite cake."

Bless him for not embarrassing me by mentioning my slip of using Tarrant's name and for knowing his preferred cake as well, insuring that I would be assured to please him with my offering. I had a fair amount of talent where culinary pursuits were concerned, and I wanted everything to be as perfect as possible with my present of dessert. "That sounds delightful Mr. Earwicket," I said, turning the pages of the recipe book to find the one that I wanted.

It was then that the door to the kitchen opened once more and my heart seemed to stop for a moment, thinking that our tormentor had returned to bully us, but a long pair of white ears entered the room, followed by a twitching pink nose, and I was delighted to see that it was McTwisp, in spite of his tendency towards stuffiness.

"Ah, there you are Miss Quinn," he said, sounding as though he were out of breath. "I have come to issue an invitation to you, for a picnic luncheon with the Hatter, in Her Majesty's garden, at noon."

That only gave me an hour and a half to work with, but I thought that I could manage to assemble the dessert and myself in that amount of time. "Please convey my acceptance to Mr. Hightopp," I answered, hurriedly dropping into a proper curtsy before turning to start my dessert.

"I was also to request that you would assemble a basket for this luncheon, Mr. Earwicket. Please have it ready for me to obtain by quarter before the hour of twelve, sir."

The Hare was bustling about the kitchen, muttering angrily beneath his breath and his grumbling grew with each word that McTwisp spoke, and he added the noisy retrieval and slamming down of pots and pans to the cacophony. " 'Assemble the basket' Earwicket, won't you please, he says as though he's above me, Mr. High and Mighty, next to the Queen herself as though I didn't know him. Didn't know the state of the burrow he was bred in, a stinking hovel with kittens following out of every window and door. Now he parades around this castle as though his _shukm_ doesn't stink, when I know the truth, yes I do."

I tried to behave as though I hadn't heard one word that Mr. Earwicket had spoken, but it was rather difficult and I could tell that McTwisp was just about ready to fly into a rage, but in the end he managed to comport himself very properly, just as he always did.

"That's more than enough of that gutter speak, Mr. Earwicket," he responded, holding himself proudly. "Will you have enough time to assemble the basket, or should I report to the Hatter that you are unable to fill his request?"

"Of course I'll have it ready _Nivens_," he whispered, cackling as the Rabbit grew even more indignant at being addressed so informally. "Make sure you're here at a quarter till, mind you."

He continued to chuckle once McTwisp had bounded angrily from the room, seeming to be quite pleased with himself for infuriating the Rabbit. "Now then, let's see about that cake, shall we?"

It was amazing, the mercurial tendencies of his personality, and I was grateful for the fact that he was on my side now. I didn't like him sniping at me and I was very appreciative of the fact that he seemed to be almost fond of me after I'd stood up for him. This had been a dilly of a morning, and I could only hope that the afternoon would fare better for me.

Fancy-(U.K.) To want to do or have something.

Tarrant's POV

This had to be the absolute best cake that I'd ever had. First of all, it was my favorite, strawberry and whipped cream squat cake, secondly, it was more sublime than any I'd had in the past, tastier and more decadent, and lastly, _she _had made it especially for me, my sweet Éclair. The rest of the meal had been delicious as well, as old Marchie's offerings always were, but nothing could even come close to the ambrosia that I was currently spooning between my lips.

She kept distracting me, even with the delicious qualities of the cake, because she kept staring at my lips, her gaze growing more intent with each bite that I took, each stray bit of strawberry and cream that I licked away. I knew what she was thinking about, she was remembering our lip caress that had taken place right in this very garden, and I knew that because it was the memory that had been assaulting my senses from every corner all throughout the day. All I could think about was the softness of her lips, how the plump flesh had felt against my mouth, the warmth and the supple feel of her. My trousers had been too tight in the crotch all day, but I'd done nothing to alleviate my discomfort, determined that I would exercise some manner of self-control.

I finally finished my cake and she hurriedly moved her gaze away from my mouth, blushing prettily as she realized where it was that she'd been looking. We put the dirty dishes into the picnic hamper and set it aside, and reclined back on the throw pillows that had been arranged on top of our blanket, staring up at the full and verdant limbs of the tree above us. I was tempted to question her about her confrontation with some oaf that had taken place in the kitchen that morning. The Hare had filled me in on the wherefores and whys of the situation and I could have throttled him when he revealed that he'd havered on about her duty like some sort of neap, but she hadn't seemed to believe any of what he'd said so I kept my trap shut, having not received the go-ahead from Her Majesty to divulge the information to Claire just yet.

There was something that had been working on me all morning, the memory of that lip caress and how wonderful that it had felt, and how I wanted to do it again. I wondered how she'd react if she were to know the thoughts that were running through my head, and in the end I decided that there was only one way that I could find out.

I rolled to my side on the blanket, facing her, and was thrilled when she imitated my movements, turning so that she was looking at me, and then she reached across the blanket to take hold of my hand, her flesh warm and tanned against the stark white and coolness of my own. She stroked her thumb against my palm, causing my breathing to speed up. I wondered how she would react if I were to place my lips on her once more. Would she be angry? Would she slap me? In the end, I knew that there was only one way that I could be sure, and I gradually lowered my head, placing my lips gently against hers, moving slowly, so that I wouldn't startle her.

All of my worries were for naught; it would appear, as she eagerly accepted my lips, even going so far as to twine her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her. I pulled back for just a moment, to readjust my weight against her, and my tongue snuck out of my mouth to taste some stickiness on my lips. Oh yummy, fresh strawberries and cream. That was when I saw that she had a little trace of the treat on her lip, and not even thinking of my actions I lowered my head to taste her, running the tip of my tongue across her plump lower lip.

She gasped with surprise and I slipped my tongue between her lips, unsure of why or what it was that I was doing, but enjoying it none the less. My tongue found hers and I leisurely licked the surface, loving the way that the sleek texture felt against me, and reveling in the sweetness that I'd found within her. I had a dim recollection of thinking that she would be sweet, were I ever to taste her, and I was pleased to find that I had been correct in my assumption.

We continued on in that matter for quite a while, but not long enough to suit me before we heard footsteps on the path that approached our picnic spot and we quickly and regretfully pulled away from one another, rising on the blanket and hurriedly straightening our clothing, hoping that our company wouldn't deduce that they had just interrupted us, nor what we'd been doing that they had broken up.

I felt deliciously naughty as the Queen and McTwisp rounded the corner, not regretting my actions for one moment. I had discovered something new, an entire realm of intimate possibilities that I'd only just touched the tip of, and I was looking forward to the time to investigate the matter further.


	7. Words That Start With The Letter G

Chapter Seven

Words That Start With the Letter G

Garrulous-Excessively or pointlessly talkative.

Tarrant's POV

All day long, one right after another, they come to me under the guise of seeking my advice, but their true motive is to slowly drive me to the gates of and beyond the brink into insanity. I was more than a little insulted that they honestly thought that I would believe that they wanted my council, because to be quite frank, I had no delusions about what they thought I was, and in truth they would be more likely to seek guidance from a pebble on the ground than to ask me what my opinion on any subject was.

It was bad enough dealing with the two-faced gentry that deigned to speak to me now that they'd realized that I possessed the perseverance to fight for them, not to mention the principle that drove me to protect my homeland, but I also had to endure mendacious souls such as Chessur, who had proven to be a turncoat when the Red Queen had taken control of the throne. His traitorous actions were difficult to stomach, and then there was his tendency to want to talk nonstop, making one wish that they could just place their hands around his furry neck and squeeze the life from his body.

"You've got a little twinkle in your eyes as of late Tarrant," the irksome feline purred as he followed me around the solarium, fading and reappearing from a puff of smoke. I was doing my very best to ignore him, but it was something that he didn't care for, not having a rapt audience at all times, and he retaliated by appearing on my shoulder, or wrapped around my leg, or even at times perched atop my hat, throwing me off balance, nearly causing me to topple to the ground, loathsome beast that he was.

"You should be more mindful of your personal safety Chessur," I hissed, catching my balance against a chair. "If you continue to torment me I will have no qualms about suggesting that you are separated from your manhood for the wellbeing and safety of all those in Underland."

The cat leapt from the crown of my hat to the table, upsetting numerous scrolls in the process. "Tut, tut Tarrant," he murmured, doing his best to sound both wounded and filled with terror, but I could see the smile that was twitching at the corners of his mouth. "There's no need for you to be so hostile, I was merely making an observation about your sunny disposition as of late."

I took a deep breath, admonishing myself that it was essential that I keep my temper in check. I had to keep repeating to myself that Chessur had redeemed himself, that he had risked his own life to save mine, but damnation, he was difficult to tolerate, always insisting on making me the butt of his jokes. I could make myself bear the brunt of his pranks, as long as I was the focal point, but I had an uneasy feeling that he was intent on drawing Claire into his tricks, and that was something that I couldn't tolerate, the fact that he and I were part of the same team be damned.

"I can restrain my aggressions if you would control your tongue," I answered, leaning over the table to study the newest reconnaissance reports from our agents all throughout Underland. "I don't think I'll ever be able to comprehend why you feel compelled to constantly torment those around you."

"Yes, well Tarrant, you have to first understand that the inner machinations of my mind are a conundrum, too complex for someone such as yourself to ever be capable of understanding. Secondly, if I were you, I'd be more concerned with controlling my own tongue. That was quite a scandalous display in the garden yesterday."

All the good advice that I'd been giving myself about holding my temper in check fled the room as I turned and seized hold of Chessur, my hand gripping his neck in a hold that he had little chance of breaking free of. "Filthy little underhanded sneak," I fumed, my anger growing until it consumed me, my fingers tightening upon the cat's gullet. "Deceitful mangy spy...Treacherous feline...Duplicitous little varmint...Cunning, despicable turncoat..."

Several hands and paws grabbed hold of me from behind and pulled me away from Chessur, who dropped to the floor coughing and wheezing, his suffering bringing me out from under the furious mist that had seized control of me. I turned to see who it was that had stopped me from strangling the cat, knowing that I owed them a debt of gratitude for putting a stop to behavior that would have haunted me forever if it had culminated in the action that I'd thought that I wanted. There were the eyes of my friends Mallymkun and Bayard, and those of my colleague McTwisp, and worst of all, the gaze of my sovereign, the lustrous White Queen, but all of their fear and disapproval was nothing to me when compared with the luminous chocolate hued stare of disbelief that was thrown in my direction by my lovely lady, Éclair.

I couldn't stand to see her watching me that way, as though she were afraid of, and possibly disgusted with, me, so I turned my attention back to Chessur, dropping down to one knee beside him. "I can never make you forget what I have done today," I whispered sadly, reaching forth with hands that were now gentled, tenderly examining the possible damage that I'd done to his throat. "I just hope that in the future, once you've had the opportunity to heal, perhaps you will find it in your heart to forgive me Chessur, because I am truly sorry for hurting you as I have."

He looked up at me doubtfully for a moment, and I thought that I had truly fouled things up beyond repair if the cat were looking at me in that fashion, this being who had always sought to find the humor in every situation; even those that really had no comedy whatsoever. He watched me in that fashion until I was just about ready to scream in frustration. What more could I do, what else could I say to make him, and everyone else, see that I was ashamed of myself for my actions, and that I desperately wanted and needed their forgiveness.

"I was rather enjoying that previous sparkle in your eye, Tarrant," he spoke at last, his voice raspy from the strangulation he'd just endured at my hand. "Why so glum, my friend? You should know me well enough by now to know that I don't hold grudges for very long."

It was heartening to hear his words, and to see that devilish light take hold of his eyes once more. "Are you saying that I have earned your forgiveness Chessur?" I whispered, still feeling a tad unsure as to whether or not I was indeed safely out of the woods just yet.

"Come now Tarrant, it's not as though this was our first disagreement, and I'm quite positive that it won't be our last," he answered, disappearing for a moment before rematerializing on the floor next to Claire. He took full advantage of the fact that I was guilt ridden at that moment, preening and posing beside her, knowing full well that she hadn't noticed his presence. He did push it a tad too far after that, growing a little too brazen and cocky when he slid his paw beneath the hem of her dress, pulling it out so that he could look up the skirt. "It's a pity that I am not capable of wooing you, my dear," he purred, causing Claire to gasp with shock and scurry backwards away from him. "I am not a true expert of such things, but for a human female I would have to say that you are very nicely shaped and have the most tantalizing fragrance that I have ever been afforded the pleasure to draw up into my nostrils. It makes my mouth water with ravenous delight, as a matter of fact."

Claire's eyes narrowed for just a moment and when they returned to their natural state I would have sworn that they were burning, and I waited to see if the chocolate hue would melt and run down her cheeks. She took one, and then two steps towards Chessur, who for some odd reason hadn't seemed to have caught onto the fact that life as he knew it was just about to cease to exist.

"You vile little monster," she hissed, reaching down a hand to remove one of her soft leather slippers, the ones that I had fashioned for her myself. It was only then that the cat realized the depth of his mistake, when she raised the slipper high above her head, swooping down upon him to deliver a stinging blow, which he avoided by disappearing into a puff of smoke once more.

"Come back and fight me, you coward!" my darling one yelled, racing around the room like a madwoman, searching high and low for where Chessur would make his next appearance. I knew that it was a lost cause. The cat had no concept of what proper speech and decorum were about, but he excelled at saving his own neck, and I had no doubt that he had already fled the room for a safer environment.

It was evident that no one was willing to make a move to stop Claire, or at least to calm her, so I knew that it was up to me to do so. It would more than likely betray our burgeoning intimacy with one another, but at that moment I couldn't have cared less about whether or not my actions were proper. I walked over to where she was crouched, looking beneath a table and muttering beneath her breath. I had a very nice view of her while she hunted for Chessur, noticing that when she was bent over the way she was that it caused the fabric of her skirt to tighten around her derriere, proudly and boldly displaying the wondrous curvature that was normally hidden from my sight. I could have stayed there for the remainder of the day, staring at her shapely backside, but then I remembered that there were others in the room with us, not to mention the fact that it wouldn't be very ungentlemanly of me to watch her in a manner that could be described as unseemly.

"Claire, darling," I said softly, not wishing to startle her. She tried to turn around, seeming to forget the fact that she was kneeling on the floor and in doing so lost her balance. She seemed doomed to crash backwards onto the lovely derriere that I'd just been admiring, but somehow I managed to bend down and catch her, saving her from a disaster of her own making, but in the process throwing both of us headlong into a brand-new catastrophe.

I managed to keep Claire from tumbling herself, but then I lost my own balance and fell forward, realizing for one terrifying moment that I was going to end up falling on top of her, but also knowing that there was nothing that I could do to avoid it. I tried to land on her as gracefully and as weightlessly as I possibly could, but I still managed to hit her hard enough to cause her to groan with pain. I would have moved away from her instantly, well at least once I'd gotten my bearings back, but my foot caught in the hem of her skirts and I dropped down on top of her once more.

Ah, if only this moment could have taken place in less mortifying circumstances, without the roomful of witnesses gaping at the scene before them, then perhaps I could have enjoyed this forbidden and erotic sensation of my body lying between Claire's legs, but alas, that was not the case. She felt so wonderfully soft beneath me, so invitingly warm, and it staggered me when I realized that the most private part of my person was pressed intimately against something that was soft, but in a different way, and warmer than any other part of her body, and agonizing arousal like none I'd ever known before filled me and caused me to harden in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying...not to mention discomfiting.

Her eyes widened as she felt the push of me against her, instinct guiding me through a lack of experience as I sought the feel of her heat. I really wasn't sure what it was that I was looking for, but somehow I knew that it rested within my darling Claire, and that the rigid flesh that I'd soothed so many times myself wanted no relief from my hand, but from inside that warmth, that softness that I felt clothed beneath the skirts of her dress.

The erotic haze that had been cast over the two of us was penetrated suddenly by a discreet cough and it was like a dash of cold water to the small of my back, bringing my attention 'round to the fact that I should have risen from off of Claire some minutes before, and that I had been making quite a scandalous spectacle of myself. I hopped to my feet as quickly as was possible, grateful for the fact that my coat helped to mask the current state of my aroused flesh and bent to offer my hand to my darling, hoping that I hadn't humiliated her with my reprehensible actions.

She rose to her feet very gracefully, her eyes shining with what I first feared were tears of mortification and disgust, but what I soon saw were actually happiness and maybe even a small hint of wanting as well, perfectly complimenting the rosy tincture on her cheeks. She smiled at me somewhat shyly and smoothed the skirts of her dress, shifting her eyes toward the Queen and party who were watching us closely, with one or two looks of outrage, but all the others with a mixture of bemusement and wonder.

"Well now, wasn't that interesting?" Her Highness' words were filled with humor, lightening the last traces of awkwardness from the room. "We had come to inform you that there is to be a grand ball this evening, Mr. Hightopp. Perhaps you would be so kind as to escort Miss Quinn? I sense that you have become quite...attached to her."

My face felt as though it were on fire at that moment. Attached was a mild definition for what I felt for Claire, but I couldn't find the word that would be correct at this time either. I shied away from the concept of love out of self-defense, knowing what sort of harm an emotion like that could inflict. That being said, there was nothing that would have made me happier than to have Claire on my arm, and I turned towards her, hesitant to ask her, lest she refuse me.

"Would you allow me the honor of escorting you to the ball this evening, my darling Claire?" Damnation, I probably shouldn't have referred to her as my darling in front of everyone, but what was done was done and couldn't be taken back.

She curtsied to me, something that thrilled me immensely each time that she did it, "I would be honored to accompany you, Tarrant," she answered, pleasing me further with the usage of my Christian name in the company of others, a public declaration that our relationship with one another went beyond the bounds of mere friendship.

"Wonderful," Her Highness enthused, rushing forward to commandeer Claire's arm and bustle her away from me. "My attendants will help you to prepare for the ball Miss Quinn. You may meet with her in the ballroom at half past seven, Mr. Hightopp."

I would have liked to have spent more time with her, while the feel of magic was still in the air around us, but the time of day was drawing close to dusk and I needed to make my own preparations. Tonight would hold an enchantment all its own, I was certain of it, and I didn't want to be late.

Gauche-Lacking grace in social situations.

Claire's POV

Everywhere I turned there was someone watching me, and it was no wonder, given the gown that the queen's attendants had trussed my body into. It was a spectacular creation, finery that I would have never expected to feel against my skin, but the fit was much snugger than I was accustomed to, and the plunging neckline gave me all the appearance of a maiden who would grace the prow of a ship. Long story short, with my very generous curves packaged into the formfitting beauty of the gown I looked as though I were advertising my wares.

I was also plagued by guilt for wearing this dress when Tarrant had made me so many lovely gowns himself, but the girls had assured me that this was the best choice for me, this silk concoction that was a perfect match to the vivid blue hue of Tarrant's coat, making me hope that he'd be wearing it this evening. I was standing beside the white marble fountain in the center of the room, shielding myself as well as I could while I waited for my companion to arrive. My cosmetics had been applied by expert hands, the same hands that had artfully plaited and coiled my hair, piling it atop my head and adorning the mass with a deep blue, green and gold accented peacock feather. I had been more than a little shocked to see my image in the mirror, wondering when I'd blossomed into the woman who stared back at me.

There was a sudden burst of warmth on my neck and I whirled around to find that blasted cat Chessur hovering in the air beside me. His eyes traveled down and then back up the length of my figure as he smiled appreciatively. "Ah, my sweet forbidden goddess," he purred, licking his lips in a lascivious fashion as he looked at me in the manner of a starving man, with me as his long lost ambrosia. "Fate has been cruel to me, placing the soul of one who longs to ravish you into the body of one for which the act is not possible."

I felt my temper flare and strove to keep my breathing under control, knowing that deeper breaths would raise and lower my bosom in a fashion that would only serve to encourage the lustful wantonness of his gaze. "Evidently you still require a lesson in manners, sir," I hissed, wishing to strike him, but not willing to draw unwanted attention to myself. "Perhaps we should have allowed Tarrant to continue this afternoon."

The cat's self-satisfied smirk quickly transformed into a moue that was reminiscent of my former charges. "You have wounded me grievously, ma Cherie," he whispered, placing one paw over his chest and swooning dramatically. I should have stayed firm on my anger with him, but I just couldn't keep the smile off of my face while I watched him behave in that manner. "Stop that at once," I said, a snort of laughter ruining my attempt to sound stern. "Everyone is looking at you."

"Ah, my dear, it is not _I_ that they are watching," he purred, his eyes making a journey up and down my body once more. "The ladies are thinking that you are a shameless hussy, displaying the curvaceous bounty of your figure in an attempt to lure their men away from them and the men are panting with lust, wishing that you _would_ lure them away."

I looked around the glitzy ballroom, wondering if it could be true. I had lost myself in the opulence of my surroundings and had felt that I actually belonged in this world, rather than just being there as an outside observer, but could it be true that in fact I was only meant to be a joke, an entertainment for the gentry? But no, that would mean that the Queen's attendants had tricked me, had convinced me that I would be the belle of the ball, and that all eyes would look favorably upon me.

I would have liked to have burst into tears on the spot, but I refused to give anyone the pleasure of seeing me cry, not if they were already taking so much humor in me. Thankfully there was a side door, a handy escape route and I took full advantage of it, fleeing into the Queen's garden as twilight fell over the realm, bringing a momentary silence before the nocturnal creatures began their communications.

I sank beneath the cover of the tree that signified happy memories here in Underland for me, bringing my knees as close to my chest as the snug dress would allow. My arms were growing chilled as the sun bade its final farewell, making me wish that I had my pelisse with me...making me wish that I had Tarrant with me. It was just about the time when he would be entering the ballroom, and I had to wonder what he would hear about me, what manner of rumors were now circulating through the room?

"You'll catch your death of cold out here, my dear," a familiar voice spoke above me, a voice that I had longed to hear, but hadn't expected quite so soon. I looked up to see the dim outline of Tarrant, who brightened the situation in so many different ways, simply with his presence, and also by lighting the candelabra he'd carried out of doors with him. "I don't know why it is that you would place any stock in anything that deceitful feline said. Lying for him is the same as breathing is for anybody else. I don't think that he's capable of telling the truth at all, for the most part."

Had it been anyone else that said this to me I would have been inclined to believe that they were only humoring me, but this was Tarrant, and he wasn't prone to being dishonest. He dropped down to the ground beside me, placing the candelabra upon the grass and pulled me close to his side with an arm around my shoulders, his hands brushing away the goose bumps caused by the chill in the air and bringing new ones to life with the closeness of his body next to mine. I could see by the dim illumination that the candles provided that we complimented each other nicely, his bright blue coat a near perfect match to my dress, and he had accompanied it with a tartan printed kilt, the bright blue showing in the threads, along with a forest green and a gold that matched the feather in my hair. The attendants hadn't been lying to me at all when they said that my dress was perfect for me.

"That is a stunning ensemble you know?" Tarrant said, lowering his eyes to the bounty of flesh that was visible thanks to the plunging neckline of my dress. "It makes me want to go back into that ballroom and blind the memory of you from every man's eyes, knowing that they all wanted you."

In the past I would have been offended by someone acting so possessively towards me, jealous behavior that bespoke of a desire to own me, but I felt a shiver of pleasure course through me to know that Tarrant felt that way. "Somehow I doubt that every man in attendance was enraptured by me," I answered, snuggling closer to his side. "It's not as though I'm irresistible."

He smirked for a moment before pulling back on my body with the arm around my shoulders, lowering me to the ground. He hovered over me for a moment, waiting to see if I'd protest, but I wasn't inclined to do so anytime soon. "You're irresistible all right," he murmured, lowering his body in an imitation of what had happened this afternoon in the solarium. "If you weren't I wouldn't be having the thoughts that are coursing through my mind right now, nor the need that is flowing through my body."

It was fortunate that my gown was snug against my body, because my knees weakened at that moment and my thighs were tempted to fall open, to allow me to cradle him against that secret part of me that ached for him. I was an innocent, but I wasn't so naive that I didn't know the mechanics of what took place between a man and a woman, and this was the first time in my life that I'd ever felt the impulse to be that close to a man...to be that intimate with Tarrant.

I wouldn't allow myself to give into those needs, no matter how tempted I was, because our relationship was too new, we were still learning about one another. There wouldn't, however, be any harm in doing some exploring. As a matter of fact, I'd say that it was a necessity at that moment.

"Am I behaving too boldly, darling?" he whispered, trailing his lips around the hollows under my cheekbones, kissing his way to my lips. "I won't be too terribly naughty, I promise, but you need to stop me now if I'm carrying things too far."

It would have been wise for me to say yes, but I didn't feel like being wise at that moment. "Kiss me, Tarrant. Please kiss me," I whispered, running my hands back behind his neck, pressing myself against him. He stared into my eyes for just a moment and then bent his head to honor my request, his lips capturing mine gently at first, then with a growing hunger that parted my lips, offering him full access to me.

He swept his tongue inside my mouth, and my tongue met and greeted it, tasting the sweetness of chocolate housed within him, knowing that he could taste the champagne that I'd sipped while I waited for him to arrive. He raised me up off of the ground, his arms encircling behind my back as he closed any and all space that may have remained between us. His lips trailed away from mine as he brought his mouth to my throat, his tongue running over my neck, thrilling me with tiny nips of his teeth to the sensitive flesh beneath his mouth.

One of his hands stole around from my back to my front, holding one side of my throat while his mouth conquered the opposite side. I writhed shamelessly beneath him, something welling inside of me that was almost impossible for me to control. It was a new sensation for me, this desire that I felt for him, and while the thought of it consuming me was a frightening one, it was also quite exciting.

His hand slid down slowly from my neck, lightly tracing over the fullness of my breast before traveling northward once more to boldly, yet gently grasp my softness in his hand. I hadn't prepared myself for such a thing to happen and I gasped with surprise and from the pleasure of his touch. Unfortunately for me he mistook the gasp of delight to be one of pain and he quickly moved away and off of me, leaving me feeling empty and cold without the warmth and hardness of his body against me.

"Oh Claire, I'm ever so sorry," he said, reaching down to pull me up into a sitting position. I would have liked us to continue our exploration, but common sense said that it was best for us to stop before things went too far. "It was unforgivable of me to behave in that fashion. I never meant to hurt you, my darling."

"You didn't hurt me at all, Tarrant," I answered, stretching languorously before getting to my feet. "Maybe you're not aware of it, but women like to be touched in that way, by a man that they desire...at least I know that I liked it. You just caught me by surprise, that's all."

He smiled happily and got to his feet as well, and I tried to pretend that I didn't notice the fact that his kilt was raised a few inches by the swelling beneath the fabric. I had a vague idea what was taking place under there, and I was thankful for the fact that it was dark outside, so that my blush was hidden from him.

"They'll be missing us back at the ball," he whispered, stepping close to me and kissing me on my cheek. "We'll stop and straighten our appearances and then we'll head back to that ballroom and show everyone what a proper _futterwacken _looks like."

He fetched the candelabra to light our way and we set off for the castle, our bodies still humming for one another, but with my spirit considerably lighter than when I'd entered the garden. I felt refreshed, I felt renewed, I was happy, but I was also confused.

What on Earth was a _futterwacken?_


	8. Words That Start With The Letter H

Chapter Eight

Words That Start With the Letter H

Horny-Sexually excited, or easily aroused sexually. (Crass I know, but appropriate none the less.)

Claire's POV

I had expected to lie abed until noon, considering the fact that I hadn't gone to bed until four that morning, but my eyes popped open promptly as the sun started its journey to announce the break of day, years of habit waking me to start my duties, despite the fact that I danced most of the night away.

Last night had started out so terribly, but in the end had been a fairytale come to life, with me in the role of the beautiful and adored princess. If there had truly been any animosity toward me from the women in attendance, they kept it to themselves. I think that my status as a woman on the prowl was laid to rest by everyone who saw me on the arm of my Tarrant.

He had danced me around the ballroom again and again, flaunting tradition and defying decorum by keeping me firmly within his embrace for each and every dance. There were whispers buzzing around us all evening, but I hadn't cared. The only thing that had been on my mind was the fact that he was holding me tightly, that, and the memories of what had happened between us in the garden.

It had been scandalously thrilling, to whirl around the dance floor clutched tightly in his arms with my saturated pantalets a reminder of the arousal that had swept through me as Tarrant had kissed me and pressed his hardened flesh against my most intimate spot. I hadn't behaved in a manner that could have been described as ladylike, but that didn't bother me very much because I believed that my response was an honest, womanly reaction, and I certainly wasn't going to apologize to anyone for that.

Tarrant had escorted me back to my chambers following the ball, and the air between us had all but crackled from the amount of chemistry coursing from his body to mine, and it had taken every ounce of self-control that I possessed to stop myself from inviting him into my room. In the end I had controlled myself fairly well, especially when you took into consideration the toe-curling kiss that I'd received outside my bedroom door.

I lay in bed, replaying the sensual moments in my mind over and over, feeling myself heat and grow moist once more, and the oddest thought came to my mind, an idea that I would never have dreamed of entertaining before that moment, but something which seemed almost irresistible to me.

I was wearing the nightdress that Tarrant had fashioned for me on my first night with him, the leaf green challis with the golden bread and butterflies, and I bunched my fingers in the soft fabric, raising the hem until it rested around my waist, shamefully baring myself beneath the covering of my blanket. I almost expected for someone to swoop into the room and chastise me for my appalling behavior, but no one appeared, and I traced my fingertips along my tummy, unsure how I should proceed, how I should touch that forbidden spot. I was hesitant even when washing myself, always terrified that I would cause some illicit sensitivity to awaken within me if I was to brush the washcloth against my flesh in an incorrect fashion.

I finally talked myself into touching that spot, just one little touch, and I slid one fingertip along the dampened, swollen flesh of my femininity, marveling at the sensitivity that my lustful thoughts had caused to blossom. It sent shivers along my thighs, the awakening that was taking place within my body, and I couldn't make myself stop with just one touch...I wanted more and I wouldn't be content until I discovered all that was possible.

I slid my fingertips between the crease I had been tracing, taken aback by the moisture that awaited me, making the flesh very slick, and I ran the digit from the bottom back to the top, choking on a startled moan of pleasure as I discovered a nubbin of flesh at the top of the furrow that seemed to be much more responsive than anything else, causing me to feel more pleasure with that one tiny touch than every other contact combined.

I conjured the image of Tarrant's body resting against mine, with his stiffened flesh pressed firmly against me. I imagined that it wasn't just my fingertip that was touching me so intimately, but rather that it was _his_ finger, exploring me more thoroughly than he'd ever dared before.

I gently slid my fingertip against that part of me that I'd come to think of as being my "magic button". I thought of the feel of Tarrant's lips against my throat, his tongue gliding across my skin, his lips nipping along my flesh, and the resulting shivers that ran through me raised goose bumps on my arms and caused my nipples to harden almost painfully.

They stiffened like that whenever I was close to Tarrant, and it made me aware of him in new and exciting ways, and curiosity overtook me once more, causing me to unbutton the bodice of my nightgown, sliding one hand inside to search out and tease the tautened flesh with my fingertips while my other hand continued the stroking of the nubbin that crowned the opening to the source of my femininity.

The movements of my fingertips sped up as I imagined that it was Tarrant who was touching me, driving me towards a sensation that was completely foreign to me, but one that I knew must culminate in something amazing. I could feel the tingling in my thighs, the saturation that was taking place within me, and I helplessly writhed upon the bed, whimpering and tossing my head back and forth on my pillow as I strove towards a release, some sort of relief that I knew was close by for me.

"Tarrant," I whimpered, biting down on my lip as a shivering began within me. "Oh, Tarrant I love you."

He wasn't there to answer me, but since I'd imagined so much about him already, I decided that there would be no harm in hearing his reply that he loved me as well. He whispered the words in my ear, clamping his teeth onto my earlobe, and then his fingers on my nipple became his mouth, hot and urgent as he suckled the flesh, drawing it into his mouth to bite gently with his teeth. The finger on my sex became a part of him that I'd never dared to envision before this moment, and I imagined his hardness rubbing against that sensitive spot on the crux of my center, and after moments of being caught within my fantasy something happened, something so wondrous and frightening and liberating happened to me and changed my entire perspective on life.

Wave after wave of sensation gripped hold of me, seeming to pulsate outward right from my core, and I curiously ventured inside my chamber, marveling at the throbbing that I felt on my fingertips, the undulations that seemed to have a heartbeat, a life, all their own. I found myself thrusting my body into the air as I was seized again and again, clutching my pillow to my mouth to muffle the cries of release that refused to be stifled.

It dragged on for many moments, just as it seemed to fly by in a flash and gradually I calmed, with just a faint tremor here and there as I returned to the here and now of things. I was glad that there had been no one nearby to see me, first and foremost for the lewd spectacle that I'd just made of myself, and also because I knew that I had a smile on my face that had to stretch from ear to ear, with no way and no desire to put a stop to it.

There would be no stopping me now, not with the awakening that had taken place within my body. No, I would have to have that feeling again, and I wondered if the day would ever arrive that I'd feel daring enough to seek out this mind-blowing pleasure with Tarrant in reality, because I imagined that it would be even better with him, and it was an idea that had me shivering with anticipation.

Heartfelt-Arising from strong and sincere emotion.

Tarrant's POV

I had been wrestling with the nature of my emotions for Claire for some time, almost since the first day of our meeting, as a matter of fact, and now that we'd had several intimacies pass between us it came to my attention that I had to affirm my feelings and my intentions towards her, I needed to know, for myself, and I owed her that knowledge as well. I suspected that she loved me, though she hadn't come right out and said it, and I also believed that I was in love with her, a thought that thrilled, and frightened, and to some extent, angered me.

I had promised myself that I'd never allow anyone to lure me into the clutches of that heartrending emotion called love, but here I was, teetering on its edge once more...teetering, ha...I was neck deep in it and it was growing more and more with each passing day, bringing with it an inevitable drowning. I tried to convince myself that this time would be different, that Claire was happy in Underland, that she accepted it, just as she accepted me, but there was still a lingering doubt, a niggling worry that bothered me each time I tried to think of my future.

I was in a meeting with Bayard, going over the latest scouting reports when I had an epiphany. Bayard was a married man...well, bloodhound, and he could offer me some honest advice on my developing relationship with my darling. He also seemed to be happily wedded, which made him a perfect source for what I needed to know, that being, what was necessary for two souls to remain happily entwined.

"May I ask you a rather personal question Bayard?"

He jumped at the sound of my voice, having been occupied with the perusal of the notes that we'd made during our meeting, but recovered rather quickly.

"Ask anything you'd like, Mr. Hatter," he replied.

"I have seen the happiness that you feel when you are with Bielle, and I was wondering if it was always that way for you, or did you ever have reservations about your emotions?"

I could see that my query took him by surprise. We had worked together several times throughout the years, but had never really had any sort of rapport that went beyond that of co-workers.

"Well Mr. Hatter, to tell you the truth of it, I fell in love with my Bielle the first time I cast my eyes upon her, and she felt the same way. I knew in that instant that I wanted her as my mate, and I've never regretted that choice at all. Not for one moment, Mr. Hatter."

Well, that was fine and alright for him and Bielle, but what about for me? I had loved that way before and it had damn near finished me when she left. Couldn't he have answered that he'd had doubts, and that he'd tormented over whether he should or whether he shouldn't? Why did he have to be so damned confident that he'd made the right choice?

"Weren't you afraid at any time?" I persisted, confident that there had been at least one moment that he'd faltered, there just had to be. "Didn't you ever worry that she'd leave, that she'd break your heart one day, and nearly destroy you in the process?"

A look of understanding came into his eyes, and I was grateful that it wasn't paired with pity, an emotion that I positively detested. "It would have been more devastating to have not taken that chance, to not have trusted in the desire of my heart, because if I hadn't I'd have never have had her by my side through each day, and I'd never have known my children. That makes everything worthwhile Mr. Hatter, this wondrous love that has been a comfort to me every day since I found my Bielle. A heart needs love, it wants love, and it's a resilient thing. It can be broken, shattered beyond all recognition, but if you give it time, it will heal, sir."

I could see the reason in what he was saying, if it could be said that logic had any place in the conversation when one was discussing love, but I didn't have his confidence, I didn't know where I stood where Claire was concerned, not enough to bring me any kind of assurance at least.

"You have had your heart broken Mr. Hatter," he continued, turning his head towards the door of the solarium, raising his nose into the air to sniff in that direction. "Most of us have, but once we find the other half of our heart, our soul mate so to say, only then are we truly content."

The door opened and Claire stepped through, a vision in blue and white, her eyes dancing and her cheeks flushed, and it was in that moment that I knew, that everything became crystal-clear. I loved her...no ifs, ands, or buts about it. My heart lifted each time that I saw her, my demeanor and my clothing brightened, and I couldn't understand in that moment what it was that I'd worried about.

She hurried over to where I stood, and shocked me by hugging me close against her and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. Bayard was polite enough to turn his back and afford us some privacy. Something had changed about her, something drastic, and it was a good something.

"I'm having a picnic luncheon packed for me in the kitchen, Tarrant," she said, her eyes growing even brighter as she looked at me. "Could you meet me in the garden in a half hour?"

Had she asked me for the moon, I couldn't have denied her, not with the happiness that she was projecting, nor with my own discovery. I knew that Bayard and I could take a break and continue on later that afternoon.

"That sounds wonderful," I answered, and smiled happily as she brushed her lips over my cheek once more. She turned and all but danced out of the room, waving to both Bayard and I as she took her leave.

I waited for Bayard to comment on what had just taken place, some sort of sage advice for me, but he merely smiled, well, in as much as a canine can smile, seeming very pleased with what had just transpired.

"It's fortunate that our hearts rule us where love is concerned, Mr. Hatter," he said, turning his attention to the scouting reports. "If our minds were making choices for us where that emotion was concerned everyone would be miserable."


	9. Words That Start With The Letter I

Chapter Nine

Words That Start With the Letter I

Intriguing-To capture someone's attention, therefore making them curious.

Tarrant's POV

The picnic luncheon that Marchie had packed for Claire and me was quite delicious, starting with roasted chicken sandwiches and potato chip salad, and topping it all off was peachy keen cobbler. I was quite entranced by the bevy of foodstuffs, having missed breakfast that morning due to the fact that I overslept, but in spite of my fascination with the food, I found that my attention kept straying, my gaze drawn time and again to Claire.

I couldn't quite place my finger on what it was that was so different about her, couldn't puzzle out what it was about her demeanor that had changed so drastically from when I'd left her in the wee hours of the dawn until now, but there was something, a difference in the sparkle of her eyes, a blush of awareness...something had changed within her, and it was a magnetic pull upon me, drawing me closer and closer to her.

I finished my cobbler in spite of the fact that I'd been doing so whilst ogling the hint of cleavage exposed by her gown, the shadow betwixt her bosoms drawing me in, making me wonder how warm the skin was that was nestled there, hidden from me, just beyond the scope of my eyes. I knew that she took notice of where I was staring, but if she was offended by my slip in propriety, she certainly didn't show it.

Claire cleared our blanket of dishes while I looked up at the dense canopy of leaves that was surrounding us, making me wonder why she had chosen this spot, so dark and secluded, as opposed to our usual location, but then I realized that the day was a good deal warmer than the past few had been, and that more than likely she had chosen this setting due to the shade provided by the branches.

I was full, but not miserably so, and it seemed like it would be a good idea to lay back on the pillows and rest. I hadn't had a sufficient amount of sleep the night before, and Bayard wasn't expecting my return until three o'clock. I wondered if Claire would be offended if I suggested that we should have a wee nap before we headed back inside. I turned my head to look at her, on the verge of proposing that she lay down and rest with me, but the words froze on my lips, my throat seizing as I noticed that she was rubbing her hands across her bodice.

"I say Claire, are you feeling poorly?" I asked her worriedly, sure that she must be having difficulty breathing due to the way she was rubbing her chest. "Should I take you back to the castle?"

It was difficult to tell in the darkness provided by the tree branches, but it seemed that her face was flushed a deep crimson hue, and I flew to my feet, prepared to take her up into my arms and flee for the palace, certain now that she was choking to death, but she waved me away, muttering, "I'm alright Tarrant, I am breathing just fine."

That meant that the blush on her cheeks was due to embarrassment, and I had to wonder what had happened that could have made her feel so self-conscious. I was mystified for a few moments and then it hit me. Blast and damn, I had to be the densest being in all of Underland, not to mention the biggest cad as well. Clearly I had made her uncomfortable when she caught me staring at her bosoms, and was mortified and scandalized by my rakish behavior.

I sat back against the pillows on the ground, unsure as to what I should do, or what I should say, and whether she wanted me to stay or go. Claire crawled across the blanket to sit beside me, easing my fears somewhat when she placed her arm around my waist, cuddling herself up against me. I tentatively laid back against the pillows, bringing her down beside me, and my anxiety left me completely as she snuggled herself even nearer to me, bringing my arm close to hold her around her waist.

"Have you ever had an urge to try something, but were afraid that if you did it would mean that you were an awful, wicked person?"

Her question caught me by surprise; I couldn't imagine her ever doing anything that could be thought of as either awful or wicked, let alone both at the same time.

"Well yes, I haven't only considered the act of being iniquitous my darling," I answered, knowing that no matter how destructive it was at times, that telling the truth was the wisest thing to do. "I have done things for which I am vastly ashamed, and there isn't a day that passes when a sinful impulse doesn't tempt me."

She turned to her side, her luminous eyes watching me closely. "Would you be shocked if I asked you to participate in something that might be considered sinful?"

I felt a shaft of heat course through me when that word, "sinful", pass between her lips. How was it that she could say that, a word that I had heard and said thousands of times before, and make it seem as though she were touching me as she said it? That word stroking me in a fashion, in a place, that should have been off-limits to my imagination.

"What is it that you have in mind?" I asked, with a tremor evident in my voice, along with curiosity and anticipation.

She didn't answer me verbally, choosing instead to demonstrate what it was that she wanted. She reached out to take hold of my hand, bringing it to her plump lips and lovingly placing a kiss onto each fingertip. I hated my hands, they looked as though I had dipped them in lye, or some other type of noxious cleanser, but she seemed to like them well enough. Once she'd finished with that hand she repeated the attention to my other, and my eyes closed as I lost myself in that heavenly place where I was the center of her attention.

She removed her lips from my hands, moving them away from her face altogether, and I felt bereft for a fraction of a moment, thinking that what she had done was nice, and far from scandalous, but then I felt soft fullness fill the palms of my hands, and I knew that the kisses to my fingertips weren't the sinfulness that she'd had in mind.

I slowly opened my eyes and lowered them, and was filled with a heady sense of arousal when I saw that my suspicion of what I now held in my hands was confirmed. I gently squeezed the softness of what I held, thinking that nothing had ever felt so supple to me before, nor so warm and inviting. I was tempted to abandon my pillow altogether and rest my head against her bosom for a short catnap.

I moved my hands until they were resting on the outer curvature of her breasts, and feeling rather daring, I moved my thumbs in a slow caress across the peaks of her bosom, delighted when I felt the flesh located there on the apex harden, in the same fashion that certain parts of my own body were becoming completely engorged as I engaged myself in this new form of intimacy.

Her breathing had quickened while I stroked her, the lids of her eyes lowering until they were nearly closed, her lips falling open, her teeth biting down upon her lower lip. The lower part of her body had begun to undulate atop the blanket, and watching her I was seized by the sudden urge to place my body between her legs, but I resisted the temptation, knowing that it would be highly inappropriate of me to act in such a fashion.

I continued to caress her, thoroughly enjoying myself, but then I realized that I wanted more, I wanted to feel more of her, I wanted to see more of her. I brought shaking hands around to her back and unzipped the closure of her gown, bringing it open to her waist, and then I loosened the bodice of her gown slowly, revealing a feature of the female anatomy that I'd only dreamed of laying my eyes upon before this moment. They were stupendous, to put their descriptive quite plainly, firm and supple, topped with rosy peaks that were tightened and seemed to be begging for my touch. I reached forward with a bold fingertip, rubbing their puckered surfaces, and that was enough for a moment, but then curiosity overtook me once more, and I slowly lowered my head, tentatively licking the blushing flesh, nearly choking on my surprise when she arched her body and cried out.

"Oh Claire, please forgive me," I whispered. "I quite lost my bearings there for a moment and gave into temptation. I'm so sor...oomph."

My apology was stifled as she reached up to grab hold of my head, bringing my lips to her own to receive a hungry kiss before my mouth was returned to the flesh that I'd abandoned on her chest.

"It feels good Tarrant," she whimpered, moving my head from one peak to another. "So very good...please don't stop...I'm begging you."

Well, she certainly wouldn't have to beg me that was for sure. I would gladly continue, now that I knew that it felt good to her, what I was doing, as opposed to causing her pain. It seemed that I learned something new every day, for I never would have imagined that a woman would enjoy such a thing.

The hours remaining in my break sped by, and before I knew what was what, three o'clock had arrived, and I had spent the time following my meal lavishing attention on my Éclair's bubbies, which were far sweeter and more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. I had worked myself into quite a state by that time, and was grateful that I had a lengthy walk back to the palace during which I could calm myself.

Claire told me to go, and not to worry about escorting her. I was reluctant to leave her, but duty called, and so I left her sprawled upon the blanket, her eyes dreamy, her hair and her clothes mussed. I would have given damn near anything at that moment to stay with her, to explore her even further, so I turned and left quickly, knowing that there was only so much temptation that I was strong enough to withstand.

Intimidate-To frighten somebody into doing or not doing something by means of violence or blackmail.

Claire's POV

I stayed beneath that tree long enough to alleviate the sensual frustration that had been left burning within me, and late afternoon had fallen by the time I started back to the palace to return the picnic basket. I had been right, the feel of Tarrant's fingers, and Lord bless me, his tongue on my nipples had far excelled anything that I could do myself, and I looked forward to the time when he might explore that magic button that was responsible for bringing me so much pleasure.

My mind was fixated on the intimacies that had passed between Tarrant and I, and I didn't notice the man who'd bullied Mr. Earwicket and I in the kitchen a few days before until he was upon me. He was leering at me in a way that was completely improper, and I was all set to dress him down for his rude behavior when I realized that more than likely I was quite disheveled following my tête-à-tête with Tarrant. There was no doubt that this ogre had taken one look at my rumpled appearance and had concluded what it was that I'd been engaged in that made me look that way.

"Well now, look at you girlie-girl," he leered, reaching out a hand to pluck a leaf out of my hair. "It looks to me like you been out and about, dallying with that albino freak in the woods. I thought you was supposed to be some kinda lady? It seems to me that you're nothing more than a sneaky little whore."

"Don't you dare touch me," I hissed, knocking his hand away from me. "How dare you speak to me that way?"

He laughed cruelly, capturing both of my wrists in his hammy fist and cruelly twisting them until my bones threatened to crack. I knew that he wanted me to cry out from my pain, and I stubbornly refused to give him the pleasure of knowing that I was in agony.

"Whores aren't entitled to any kind of thoughtfulness or polite speech," he answered, pulling on me until I was pressed close to his body. I twisted against him, fighting his hold on me, but no matter how much I struggled, I couldn't break his grip on my wrists. "I figure that you're still nice and wet from that Mad Hatter, so I should slide in real easy."

I was all set to scream, to cry out for help, but before I could work up a good shriek, a piercing cry broke free from between my attacker's lips, and he pushed me away from his body, plunging his hands between his legs to cradle a crotch which was spotted with blood. Tears of pain and humiliation welled in his eyes and he hobbled away from me as quickly as was possible for him at that moment, throwing muttered curses and promises of revenge at me over his shoulder.

I sat there for a moment, collecting my scattered thoughts and shattered emotions, having a vague idea of what had just happened, but having no clue as to how it had happened. While I was contemplating this, a puff of smoke appeared and revealed Chessur, who looked more than a little pleased as he examined his claws, buffing the little daggers against his striped fur.

"Chessur!" I cried, a huge feeling of relief swamping my body as the enormity of what could have taken place overwhelmed my senses. "Thank you so much for rescuing me."

"Think nothing of it, my lady," he answered, gracing me with one of his grins. "I behaved badly towards you myself, as of late, and I thought that it was the least that I could do. Besides which, I don't have any use for predatory beings who prey on those smaller than they are. Not to mention the fact that you're Tarrant's girl, and I owe him a few for all the times he's overlooked my tendencies towards treachery."

"Please don't tell him what happened Chessur,' I begged, knowing that Tarrant would be enraged were he to know, and would more than likely seek out retribution against my would-be rapist. "He would only do something that I would regret."

"He will see the bruises," the cat answered. "He will want to know what happened."

"I'll take care of that," I said. "Please promise me that you won't breathe a word about this to him."

He seemed quite reluctant, but gave me his promise in the end. He helped me to gather up the spilled and broken dishes from the ground, then escorted me back into the palace. There was the evening meal to prepare for, and I had some concealment to apply, both to my body and to my heart as well, which I hoped would hold up to Tarrant's close scrutiny, for both of our sakes.


	10. Words That Start With The Letter J

Chapter Ten

Words That Start With the Letter J

Jealousy-Jealous feelings or behavior.

Claire's POV

A week had passed by since the interlude between Tarrant and I beneath that shaded canopy in the garden, followed by a confrontation with a beast I had come to know, after some covert investigation on my part, as Mr. Winston, an advisor to a Lady St. Suvier, a thoroughly horrid woman who seemed to view any and all females as fodder for her rumor mill. I had good reason to suspect that she was the one who'd filled that criminal's head with the idea that I was some sort of guttersnipe, a common whore whose mind was filled with delusions of grandeur that had her mixing with her betters, and I had purposefully avoided any scenes between Tarrant and I that could be regarded as scandalous, due to his connection with the Queen as her most trusted advisor.

Iracebeth had taken to attacking the homes of those who were loyal to her sister, and measures had been taken to bring the surviving families closer to the palace, in the hopes that they could be protected by the White Queen's guards. Tarrant and I had barely had time to even see one another, let alone engage in any scandalous behavior, so it was safe to assume, at least for the time being, that I wouldn't be the topic of choice for Lady St. Suvier and her cronies.

I had taken to spending more and more time in the kitchen, finding Mr. Earwicket to be a wonderful diversion from the situation at hand, and he and I were quickly becoming friends, and I couldn't say for certain which of us was more shocked by that development.

"They swarm in from all over and always the same sob story from them all. Fix the breakfast, fix the luncheon, where's the dinner? And then there's the tea...how much bloody tea does it take to quench their thirst? How long am I expected to slave away to fill their perennially empty gullets?"

I ducked down quickly, anticipating the crockery teapot that had just flown over my head. I was becoming rather accurate at pinpointing the moment when Thackery would toss something, and hadn't run the risk of being hit for a couple of days now. I knew that he enjoyed my company, and that he wasn't trying to chase me away, and besides which, it was nice to be around someone who said and did as he pleased.

"Hare do this, and hare do that...too slow...too much butter...too much cream. How can you have too much butter and cream? Complete insanity is what it is and that encephalitic wench making life hard on those who fight for her shimmering Highness...it makes me sick to my stomach, it does."

I was tempted to make an overture of comfort towards him, but knew that it would only infuriate him were I to do so, and in the end I just kept my mouth shut, and my eyes firmly on the task at hand, which was peeling and chopping a veritable mountain of potatoes for that night's meal.

I had filled one pot with the spuds, which left me with three more when the door to the kitchen opened and McTwisp stepped inside, causing an immediate and very angry response from Mr. Earwicket.

"Comes hopping into my kitchen whenever he damn well pleases. Thinks that he's better than I am, thinks that I'm a lowly cook...a servant...while he has hold over the ear of Her Majesty. Trussed up little dandy who wants to be human so badly that he can taste it."

I could tell by the expression on McTwisp's face that he longed to rail back at Mr. Earwicket, but in the end he merely took a deep breath and bounded over to where I was standing. I hadn't thought that he was there to speak to me, so his approaching me as he was came as a complete surprise. He usually had very little to say to me, in fact it seemed as though he ignored me as much as possible, so I wondered what it was that might have caused him to seek me out.

"Pardon the interruption Miss Quinn," he said, bending low at the waist as he greeted me. "Mr. Hightopp requested that I bring you a message. He has left a gift for you in his quarters, a new gown, I believe, and said that he is unable to present it to you himself, but that he would like for you to wear it this evening. He has instructed me to tell you that you may enter his quarters and retrieve it from the trunk located at the foot of his bed."

I could tell that this entire conversation was making him more than a little uncomfortable. It made sense, I suppose, the idea of mentioning any article of a woman's clothing, something that McTwisp more than likely regarded as completely inappropriate conversation, but good heavens, it wasn't as though he'd been asked to strip me naked and then personally fit the gown onto my bare figure, for goodness' sake.

"Thank you for delivering the message to me, McTwisp," I answered, curtsying, as was proper.

Thackery had managed to stifle his tendencies towards inappropriate outbursts up until that moment, but now he was all but trembling from the need to lash out once more at McTwisp. "It's odd that you're so nervous around the lady, when in most cases you would be slaving over any human who was near in exchange for them deigning to scratch you behind your ears."

McTwisp was practically steaming by that time, and I decided that a hasty departure would be the best for everyone in the room, so I asked the rabbit to please offer himself as escort for me while I went to Tarrant's room. I would have never made such a silly request had the situation not been so precariously near the possibility of violence, but much to my relief, McTwisp agreed, and I shot Thackery a look of admonishment as I followed the rabbit out of the room.

"I'd like to apologize to you on behalf of Mr. Earwicket," I said as we walked along the corridor towards Tarrant's bedchamber. "He has a tendency to speak without thinking of how his words sound to others, something I'm sure that you've been aware of for some time, but I'd like to apologize nonetheless."

My act of contrition seemed to catch him off guard, truth be told I think it truly flabbergasted him. "Well, thank you for that Miss Quinn," he answered, turning to look at me directly for perhaps the first time since we'd met. "It wasn't you that insulted me, but it the mark of a true lady that you felt the need to soothe over any rough spots that another's crude behavior might have caused."

I smiled in response, knowing just as well as he that Thackery _had _raised some rough spots on him, which was usually the case when the two of them were near one another. I wasn't sure where their history with one another had gone bad, but there were rumors that they'd been almost like brothers at one time, and whatever had happened had severed that tie completely and left them downright hostile towards one another.

It was fortunate that we'd arrived at Tarrant's room, because I'd run out of things to talk about by that time, and it would have just been stilted pleasantries and awkward pauses between us. McTwisp bowed politely to me, a nicety that I answered with a curtsy, and then bounded away, no doubt having numerous other errands to perform which made me even more appreciative of the fact that he'd escorted me.

I entered the room reluctantly, hesitant to just go traipsing through as though I owned the place. I reminded myself that he wanted me to be there, that I had his permission, but I still felt like an interloper as I shut the door behind me. I smiled as I looked around the room, seeing Tarrant in every corner. Every flat surface was covered with the bits and bobs and fabrics of his trade, and teetering on top of the trunk at the foot of his bed was a dressmaker's dummy, clothed in the most beautiful gown that I had ever seen.

It was a pale gold gown made from a shimmery faille fabric, with an overskirt of an even lighter shade of gold chiffon, simply made, yet exquisite in the small details, such as the floral embroidery throughout the overskirt, and I realized that he must have worked on it late every night to have completed it.

I ran my hands over the fabric and sighed happily as I thought of how nice it would feel against my skin. It was then that I noticed a small portrait on Tarrant's chest of drawers, surrounded by buttons and ribbons, a likeness of me, as a matter of fact, which was odd, considering the fact that I'd never posed for a portrait. It really shouldn't have been a surprise to me, given his artistic flair that he'd be capable of creating works of art in portraiture, and he'd certainly been complimentary to me, making me more beautiful than I knew myself to be. It was flattering to know that this was how he viewed me.

I reveled in the sin of conceit for a few moments, after all it wasn't as though I experienced this sort of thing every day, but then something else caught my eye, a large framed something that was stored between his chest of drawers and his worktable, and I knew that it was wrong of me to snoop, but I just couldn't stop myself from looking.

I picked up another portrait and looked into a face that was very familiar to me, a beautiful visage that I had seen several times since my arrival in London, the sweet and lovely Alice Kingsleigh. Tarrant had fashioned this likeness from his memory, it would seem, and his emotions were evident all throughout the portrait, the absolute love that he had felt, and perhaps still experienced, for the exquisite Miss Kingsleigh.

I stared into her eyes for a moment before quickly returning the frame to its hiding place. I had no reason to be feeling the way I was at that moment. I had no right or claim over Tarrant, and yet I couldn't stop the burning jealousy that fired within me, and the irrational desire to march myself straight up to London and yank every blonde hair right out of that damned Alice's disgustingly perfect head.

It took me a good half-hour of steaming before I'd finally calmed sufficiently enough to leave the room, the beautiful gown that Tarrant had fashioned for me draped over my arm. Tonight there was to be a ball, a grand ball, and Tarrant had asked to be my escort. I was determined that I wouldn't carry on like a harridan, nay, I would be smiling and serene, the perfect companion for an evening of frivolity.

After all, it's not as though I had any right to make a fuss...like hell I didn't.

Justified-Having an acceptable reason for the action taken.

Tarrant's POV

I was on needley pins, waiting for Claire to arrive. I had worked furiously on her new gown, and in my opinion it was beautiful and would glow when placed against her warm complexion. I had also fashioned myself a new coat out of gold brocade to match, and was hoping that it didn't make me appear foppish. I found myself pacing, wishing that I had gone to her room to provide personal escort to the ball, and this went on for several moments, drawing the attention of those around me, before finally I heard McTwisp announce her and I turned to see a beatific vision framed in the doorway of the ballroom.

Her hair was piled atop her head and trimmed here and there with seed pearls. She had applied her cosmetics to match her gown, shimmery golds and creams, her lips colored a lush dark rose. I could feel my body reacting to her, a very inappropriate response given the fact that we were in a public place, surrounded by royalty and gentry. I felt a sense of pride fill me as she walked, no, make that glided, across the dance floor. She was so beautiful and many sets of eyes turned to watch her as she passed by, eyes that were filled with an admiration for her fine face and form, and perhaps even for the lovely gown that she was wearing.

I had been right when I had picked that golden color for her gown, a color that wouldn't have complimented most of the women in attendance this evening, but against her bronzed complexion the shade was absolutely stunning. She walked over to where I was standing and I heard whispers throughout the room, inquiries as to why an exquisitely beautiful woman like Claire had deigned to keep company with a freak such as myself, no doubt. I could very easily imagine that question on their tongues, due to the fact that it was a query that plagued my mind each and every day.

There was something wrong, something terribly amiss in her demeanor. She was smiling at me, a smile that would seem genuine and almost serene if the person that she was smiling at didn't know her very well, but I knew her, and I could see that it was a false smile. When she was truly happy or at least pleased, her beaming included her eyes, lighting them from within, and all I could see in her eyes was a good deal of hurt, and an even greater amount of anger.

She placed her hand in mine and I raised it to my lips, and noticed her eyes flash dangerously as I did so. Oh, heavens...she was angry with me, but what had I done? I wracked my mind, desperately searching for a moment, something that I may have done, no matter how innocently, that may have upset her, but for the life of me I couldn't think of anything. It didn't help that when I got flustered, such as I was at that moment, that my brain ceased to function in its normal capacity and even that capability was half of what others were.

"I believe that I owe you a word of thanks for this gown," she said, her words sharper than usual as her eyes continued to flash at me. "It is positively stunning, and must have taken hours to complete. I also wanted to compliment you on your artistry and your kindness where that portrait of me was concerned. You made me much more beautiful than I actually am."

Surely she wasn't serious, was she? I had thought that I'd captured her very poorly, doing her little to no justice with my paltry skills. "I am not in possession of the talent necessary to fully capture your beauty darling," I replied, raising my hands to trace her cheekbones with my fingertips. "I did my best, but I'm afraid that the finished product pales when placed in comparison with the actual model."

Her eyes softened for just a moment, and I grew aware of the fact that the room had grown decidedly quieter, with a good deal of the guests now concentrating on the conversation between Claire and myself. There was a noticeable tension between us that was palatable in the air, so it made sense that they were intrigued.

"I stumbled upon another portrait while I was in your room," she said, her lips trembling as she spoke. "It was a portrait of a very beautiful woman, whose face was very familiar to me, also fashioned by you."

Hellfire, blast and damnation...it was no wonder that she was angry with me. I knew a good deal about jealousy, but it was a novel experience to find myself the inspiration for that sort of emotion in someone. I knew very well what portrait it was that she was referring to, the one that I'd started on the day that Alice had left me, the one that had hung on my wall for two years straight, before I'd decided that I just couldn't bear to look at her anymore. I'd put it away, but apparently not in a way that would have shown Claire that Alice was my old love, an affection that had never been reciprocated, and that she was now the center of my world, the love of my heart, the missing half of my soul…not Alice Kingsleigh.

"I made that portrait at a different time in my life," I answered, terribly self-conscious due to the crowd that had formed, but unwilling to allow this misunderstanding to remain unresolved in order to cater to what was proper. "My heart was broken because the woman that I loved had left me, and that was the only way that I could express what I was feeling. I had put that likeness of her away two years after she left, because I realized that it was a hindrance on my daily life. The portrait of you is placed in a spot where I can see it every time I'm in my room, sometimes I talk to it, sometimes I touch it, I've even kissed it a time or two. It's a poor substitute for you, my darling, but sometimes it's all that I can have at that moment. I'm sorry that I kept the picture of Alice; I'll get rid of it if you want me to. Please don't be angry with me, my love. I can take a lot, but that is one thing that would be very difficult to live with, the knowledge that you despised me."

Her lips were truly quivering by that point, and tears had formed in her eyes, making my chest clench painfully. Bugger me, I'd meant to appease her and had managed to upset her even more in the process. A man like me had no business with a woman as fine as her. It would probably be in her best interest if I were to face reality and find myself a nice she-troll to pass the remainder of my days with.

Yeech...that was a hideous thought, but what else could I do? She wasn't likely to forgive me anytime soon, and who could blame her? I bowed my head, determined that I would turn and leave, sparing her any further embarrassment when a voice rang out from the crowd, and I turned to see a matronly member of the genteel lot watching the scene fold out before her with watery eyes, her hands clasped in front of her, with a hanky pressed between her palms.

"Lord love you, Miss Quinn," she said, her eyes pleading with my beloved. "If you won't say that you forgive him, stand aside and let me take your place."

Ah, wonderful...it seemed as though I were destined to be the love slave of a lady who was old enough to be my mother as opposed to the female troll alternative...how very droll, or at least laughingly pathetic. I was prepared to make my way over to the crone and take my place at her side when I heard a small snort of laughter and turned to see that Claire was smiling at me, and a happy expression shone through her tears, which meant that it was genuine.

"I owe you an apology as well, Tarrant," she said, stepping forward to take both of my hands in her own. "I had no right to snoop through your belongings, and no justification for the way that I reacted. Please forgive me for my shameful behavior, my dear."

I didn't care that there was a roomful of witnesses, I didn't care about what was proper and what was not, I drew her up against me with one arm, removing my hat with the other hand and lowered my lips to hers. There was a collective gasp that rang out through the room, but my only concern at that moment was the feel of her in my arms...it was wonderful, and that was a paltry description at best.

Her lips softened and parted beneath mine and I tasted her for just a moment, determined to keep some manner of control over myself. I hated to part from her mouth, but I had already scandalously defied convention as it was, and therefore knew that it was essential that I do so. I didn't glance around the room to see what everyone's expression was, but the few that I did notice, including that of the smitten matron were pleased, complete with dreamy eyes and happy smiles.

I moved my hands away from her waist and cupped her face gently, reaching out with one finger to wipe away a tear that had landed on her cheek. "I love you, my sweet Éclair," I whispered, kissing her cheek.

"Yes, I know," she answered, turning her head to kiss each of my palms. "I love you too."


	11. Words That Start With The Letter K

Chapter Eleven

Words That Start With the Letter K

Kismet-Fate or destiny.

Tarrant's POV

I found that I was having a difficult time restraining the urge to skip as I headed to the solarium, my mind pleasantly occupied as I replayed the events that had taken place the night before. Of course, it hadn't been agreeable for me when Claire had been angry at me, and I hoped that I would never have to see that look on her face when she looked at me, not ever again. That was a look that had said that she hated me, abhorred me, that the sight of me made her want to vomit...I can't even describe how horrible that look had made me feel...I don't know any illustrations that are wretched enough to even try.

The "war room" seemed brighter, somehow cheerier than it had before, despite the maps tacked up on every wall and the tabletops that were cluttered with papers of all variety, as well as the one small table that had the Oraculum resting on its surface. Usually it was rolled up and bound, set aside because we knew what was going to happen and the day that it would happen on, but today it was open and unrolled on a larger table, and there was a dormouse wandering back and forth across its surface, frowning as she perused what was going to happen next in Underland.

"Morning's sunshine to you Mally," I said, holding out my index finger for her to shake. "How's the future look for us today?"

I would have expected a smile from her, at the very least, but her face continued to wear its hangdog expression, and I wondered what could have changed so drastically in a future that had already been foretold to be perilous, at best, and bent over to study the parchment myself.

Gninokcer was still marked as the day when Iracebeth and Stayne would receive their comeuppance, and Claire remained as the champion...only one small detail had changed. Beside her was standing another warrior, some goofy looking git wearing a kilt and a fabulous top hat...a familiar fabulous top hat...bloody hell..._I_ was the goofy git. How had it come to be that I stood as a second champion, an equal with my Éclair? It wasn't that I minded that I was to fight with her; it was a battle that I was very much anticipating, but what was going to happen that had changed things for the two of us, well, at least, had changed things for me?

Mally stepped forward and took my chin in her tiny paws, turning my head so that I would see the day that marked that enormous transformation of our lives, a day in the not too distant future marked as Owt Straeh Denioj. Funny thing the future, keeping you in the dark about what was going to happen to you and then one day...gadzooks...suddenly making up its mind and throwing everything that you'd believed was your destiny in life up in the air.

This new day showed me, no mistaking the zany hair and the hat, standing beside my lovely Claire; in clothing that left no doubt that we were being Bonded Eternal, speaking our Vow of Love before a group of witnesses. Now that was something that I never would have imagined for myself, to tell the absolute truth, I never would have thought that any woman in her right mind would have me, but then my darling girl had come along, and she was perfectly sane. The only question was how was I ever going to convince her that this was the right thing to do, our fate with one another, our destiny? I hadn't even told her that she was the intended champion, and now I had to break the news that not only was all of Underland depending on her to slay the Bloody Big Head and her underling, but also that she was intended to be the mate of an only slightly sane Hatter with serious skin problems, wonky eyes, and carrot orange hair that refused to lay down...talk about laying a lot on a person.

"They can't make you do this, Hatter," Mally said, with her normally squeaky voice made even tinnier than usual by her displeasure. "There must be some other way that Underland can be saved."

That was true, I suppose. A refusal to follow the path laid out by the Oraculum would change the course, but there was no telling how it would change, and besides which, I didn't want it to change, I wanted Claire for my mate...I loved her, now and for all time. I thought that I had found that with Alice, and had mourned that loss from my life for a long time, but I knew now that Claire was the one intended for me, the one who loved me, and would continue to love me enough to stay by my side.

"On the contrary," I answered, running my hand over the Claire on the parchment, her hand clasped tightly against my own, her eyes smiling as she looked up at me. "I can't think of any other way that I'd rather go myself."

I had made her mad with my response; clearly she had expected me to agree with her. "You're simply besotted with this girl, Hatter," she squeaked, stamping her tiny foot against the table. "I won't stand by and watch while you get your head turned round, nor your heart broken just because you're letting some little tart whirl you about again."

Claire didn't deserve those words, that maligning of her name, even Alice hadn't done anything bad enough to merit that sort of insult, and I strove to keep control of my temper, reminding myself that this was Mally, one of my dearest friends, and her anger was fueling the words that were spewing out of her mouth, that, and what I suspected was jealousy.

"This isn't mere infatuation Mally, the feelings that I have for Claire. Its love that I feel for Claire, and wonder of wonders, she loves me as well. My head is as well as it's ever been, which isn't that good at all, but I don't believe that I'm in any danger of having my heart broken. Also, it is absolutely criminal to refer to Claire as a tart, and even Alice doesn't deserve that sort of slanderous comment."

Mally wanted to continue to rail at me, to tell me that I was behaving like a fool, maybe to even accuse me of being a madman, and I was thankful when she chose to walk away from me instead. She was a dear friend of mine, one who had always stood her ground by my side, and it made my tummy hurt to think of anything ever causing that friendship to become severed. If only I could make her see that it was going to be different this time, and that Claire would never hurt me the way that Alice had.

I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the path that my future was meant to take. I felt as though I needed to sear the image into my mind, just in case I wondered later if I'd truly seen what I knew at that moment that I saw. I debated with myself, part of me wanting to continue on with my work, to push this discovery to the back of my mind, but a larger part of me urged myself to go and find Claire, but then what would I do, what should I say if I were to find her?

"I see that you have noticed the change in the course of history for Underland," said a lyrical voice that came from my right side. I would swear that she could probably glide through a pile of leaves without making a sound, and whilst I'd managed to keep myself from jumping at the sound of her voice, I was unable to suppress the squeak of alarm that bubbled up from my throat. "Forgive me Mr. Hightopp," she said, laying one pale hand upon my forearm. "It wasn't my intention to startle you."

"Think nothing of it, Majesty," I answered, running my fingers once more over the Oraculum Claire's face. She looked so happy, and she looked that way next to me, vowing her heart to me. I didn't want to allow my hopes to run too high, for the damnable fear that they'd be dashed to bits once more, but in the end I couldn't help myself...I was jubilant at the thought that she was going to be mine. "I'm afraid that I'm just a tad overwhelmed by this development."

The Queen circled the table, studying the Oraculum, noting, I'm sure, as I had, that our time was drawing nearer, perhaps more so than what we were ready for. "The time has come for you to talk with Claire," she said, words that I'd dreaded hearing for some time now. "You must tell her what is expected of her, and gauge her response."

Judge her response, huh? I knew what her reaction would be, or at least I had a pretty good idea what it would be. After all, what woman wouldn't be thrilled with the knowledge that a kingdom full of subjects were counting on her to slay the beings who were intent on destroying said kingdom, with a chalky white, slightly mad Hatter by her side, oh and did I mention that the loony flame haired man was her husband? I only wondered if she'd run away, laughing hysterically when I told her, never to be seen again, or if she'd chose rather to slap me silly and curse the day that I was born before she fled. Either way, I wasn't looking forward to telling her.

"Are you sure that now is the best time to tell her, Highness?" I asked, praying that she'd give me a reprieve for the time being, so that I could have more time to prepare what I was going to say, so that I could decide how I was going to break this news to her as gently as possible. "Wouldn't it be better if I told her in say, maybe a day or two?"

The Queen smiled at me sweetly and shook her head. "Now is the time that you must tell her Mr. Hightopp," she answered. "You will be bonded to one another two weeks from today, and women don't do well in these types of situations with only a day or two to prepare."

Somehow I knew that I could give her an entire year to prepare herself for the event, and it still wouldn't be a sufficient amount of time, but I also knew when I'd lost an argument, not that I'd ever really argue with her Majesty, and with a deep sigh of trepidation I turned and left the war room, thinking that I only wished I'd been given more time with Claire before she was taken away from me.

Kindred-Close to somebody or something else because of similar qualities or interests.

Claire's POV

I had decided to spend my afternoon working on some embroidery, a scene of bread and butterflies hovering around a fence framed by Lazy Daisies and crawling with Get Up In The Morning Glories. I wasn't artistic by any means, but I'd made up my mind to try it anyway. I thought that I could finish it and offer it to Tarrant as a gift to place on the wall in his room, to act as an "I'm sorry for acting like a jealous harridan" kind of thing.

I was reclined on my bed, propped up against the pillows for maximum comfort when suddenly the door to my room swung open and bounced off of the wall, scaring me half to death and causing me to scream like a banshee as I threw my embroidery hoop at the trespasser...the intruder who's scream of terror matched my own, which was impressive, considering the fact that the interloper was a man. He was a very pale, very _familiar_ man with carrot orange hair sticking out in every direction from beneath the brim of his top hat.

"Damn and blast Tarrant!" I screeched loudly, my voice a good deal shriller than I would have liked it to be. "You just about gave me a bloody apoplexy bursting into my room like a deranged murderer!"

He rushed over to the bed and crawled across the surface, shocking me even further as he took me into his arms. "I'm so sorry my sweet Éclair," he said, pressing his lips in quick kisses all over my face. "I never wanted to scare you darling."

His lips brushed over mine, soft to start with, then more firmly as the embers that seemed to rest between us at all times caught fire, and I whimpered as he deepened the kiss, pressing me back further into the pillows as he tightened his arms around me.

His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting me, and he moved himself so that he was lying between my thighs, my legs spread shamelessly wide as I cradled him against me. It was fortunate that I had worn a dress with flowing skirts today; otherwise I never would have been able to feel him against me this way. That male part of him hardened against me, and I had to choke down a moan of pleasure as he pressed himself against my soft, secret spot, thinking that this was a wonderful discovery, and would be a fun way to reach "that moment"...much more fun than me doing it myself.

His mouth left mine and traveled down the length of my throat, kissing and nipping my flesh until he reached the swell of my breasts, and my breathing became lodged in my throat as his tongue slid into the crevice that lay betwixt my bosoms, lapping against the flesh that was surely damp with perspiration. It embarrassed me to think of that, but Tarrant didn't seem to mind at all. I lost myself in that forbidden sensation, the soft dampness of his tongue as he licked my flesh and I arched against him, my head raising briefly away from the pillow, and that's when I discovered that my bedroom door was wide open, and were anyone to pass by they'd see me and Tarrant, practically _in flagrante delicto_.

"Stop, Tarrant," I gasped, shoving against his shoulders as I sat up on the bed. "We have to stop this right now."

"Oh dear," he gasped, sitting up and retreating to the opposite side of the bed. "Forgive me, my sweet," he said, retrieving his hat, which had fallen off his head when he kissed me. "I thought that you wanted me to kiss you."

I grabbed hold of him before he could run, moving so that we were sitting beside one another on the bed. "I not only wanted you to kiss me," I said, taking his hand between each of mine, running my fingers along his. "I needed you to kiss me, my love. I just didn't want someone to walk by and see us in what would have been a very compromising position."

That knowledge brightened him considerably and he smiled happily. "None of that will matter for too much longer," he whispered, turning his head to catch me full force with the intensity of his eyes.

"What do you mean?" I asked quietly, fear trickling down my spine when I thought that he might be leaving or some other horrible thing.

He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes to our hands, tightening his grip upon me. "Has anyone told you about the Oraculum?" he whispered, in a way that suggested that he was forcing the words to leave him, when he would have rather have kept them to himself.

"Isn't that Underland's psychic calendar?" I answered. The words would have sounded positively ridiculous anywhere else, but this was Underland, and I had already accustomed myself to the outrageous.

"Yes, it is," he answered. "It assured us of the defeat of the Red Queen through the slaying of the Jabberwocky, and also warned us of the impending battle to take place on Gninokcer day." His face grew very serious at this point, and his body tensed, making me wonder what sort of horrible news he was readying himself to impart upon me.

"A new champion was revealed who would slay both the deposed Red Queen and her reluctant companion, the Knave of Hearts. That champion was shown to be you, Claire."

If he would have told me that he was secretly a cannibalistic pederast I would have been only a little more shocked than I was at that moment. They couldn't really be serious could they? Dear God, I was a governess, not Boadicea reborn to slay Iracebeth and Stayne as opposed to Roman soldiers.

"I know this comes as a shock to you my love, and from this day forward I will take you with me into the solarium so that you will know what is happening with the movement. That's not the only news that I have for you, my darling, and the next bit will be an even bigger shock, I'm afraid."

Sweet Merciful Lord, what could be more shocking than what he'd already told me? Was I fated to die as well on that day? What could be more of a surprise then the knowledge that they were expecting me to strap on armor and swing a sword over my head to dispose of her Majesty's maniacal sister once and for all?

"The Oraculum showed that I am to join you, that I am a champion of Underland as well, and that you and I shall fight on that day together, as one."

Well, that was a comfort; somewhat...at least I wouldn't be alone. By Jove, what in hell was I thinking? I wasn't a warrior at all...truth be told I was a complete ninny. And the bad thing was, with all that he had told me, I had the feeling that he still wasn't through.

He took one deep breath, and then another. "There is another day that has been revealed, two weeks hence, a day called Owt Straeh Denioj, which revealed a couple who were shown to be Bonded Eternal, with the Vow of Love. That couple was you and I, Claire...the Oraculum has stated that you are meant to be my mate."

I wasn't clear on exactly how I ended up on the floor, all I remembered was that the room had suddenly gone dark and I had grown dizzy, and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor to find Tarrant kneeling beside me, my hand clasped between his own, his face filled with terror.

I looked at him, kneeling on the floor, and I remembered what he had said. I had long ago resigned myself to the knowledge that I would more than likely pass through life as a spinster, never finding a man who would fulfill all that I wanted in a husband, therefore I was doomed to remain alone, unloved and childless, but then I had met Tarrant, and all of my girlhood dreams had returned in full force, and now that future was dangling in front of me, just within my reach.

"Are you alright my sweet Éclair?" he asked, frantically feeling my pulse, and pressing his hand against my brow. "You scared me out of at least a year's worth of life."

I couldn't reconcile myself to the idea of the war to come, not yet. I would have to think about that at some other time. For right now I wanted to concentrate on a dream come true, an idea that probably made me a good candidate for the insane asylum, but what did I care?

"Did you just ask me to marry you, Tarrant Hightopp?" I whispered, finding that it was difficult to speak when one had a humongous smile pasted on their face.

He seemed confused for just a moment, but recovered very quickly, a smile growing on his face as he lowered his head to kiss me. "Aye, that I did my love," he answered. "What do you say to that?"

I smiled and raised my head, meeting his lips twice before giggling like a loon. "I'd say that it's going to seem like forever as opposed to two weeks until I'll be your wife, my love."


	12. Words That Start With The Letter L

Chapter Twelve

Words That Start With the Letter L

Lascivious-Provoking lust.

Claire's POV

If I had known that planning a wedding was going to be so irritating, I would have suggested to Tarrant that we elope, rather than deal with the near constant headache that had plagued me ever since our engagement had been announced at court. The big event was scheduled two evenings from the one that I was currently staggering through, and it would be amazing if those two days passed by quietly, allowing me a bit of rest so that I wouldn't appear to resemble someone who was on death's doorstep due to exhaustion and stress.

I had always thought that Her Majesty was a kindhearted, albeit slightly strange, woman, but I had soon discovered that her inner need to coordinate events such as weddings, or rather eternal bonding ceremonies, caused her to become a very officious person, who really couldn't give two figs about anyone's opinion on things...and that included my judgments as well. To put it another way, in the past week and a half she had become damned near impossible to deal with, but what other choice did I have?

She finally granted me a reprieve from the near constant planning, and I escaped to the ballroom, which was empty for the time being. An engagement gala was planned for later in the evening, but right now it was still and quiet, beautifully decorated, a lovely spot that would offer me at least a quarter hours' worth of much needed sanctuary. I dropped down to the floor beside one of the banquet tables, laying my forehead down on my knees, taking deep breaths to calm myself. This wasn't what I wanted to be feeling at this time, I wanted to be excited and happy. Not that I wasn't happy, because I was, but I would have preferred to be with Tarrant, the two of us making our own plans, every detail what _we _wanted it to be, not what we'd been told that it would be.

I suddenly heard footsteps enter the room and I froze, wondering who it could be, knowing that I had no desire to speak to anyone at that time. I leaned over and peeked beneath the tablecloth and relief flooded through me when I saw a familiar pair of lace up brown boots, encasing feet that were clad in mismatched striped socks.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, my sweet Éclair," Tarrant called. "I have something that I want to give you before the ball."

I raised my hand in the air and waved it around to show him where I was. He walked around the table, bent over, and a huge smile broke out on his face when he saw me, and then faded when he saw that I wasn't exactly happy. He crossed over to where I was sitting and plopped down beside me on the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest in an imitation of the way that I was sitting.

"What's the matter, my love?" he asked worriedly. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

The poor man, he always worried about that sort of thing. I tried to reassure him in every way that I could think of that I was there to stay, but there always seemed to be a lingering doubt that I couldn't chase away from him, no matter how hard I tried.

"I never have second thoughts about you, Tarrant," I answered, reaching down to take hold of his hand. "And I have no doubts about marrying you either. Her Majesty has just been a little...oppressive...lately, and I needed some time to myself before the ball."

"Oh dear," he answered, pulling his hand away from mine. "You wanted to be by yourself and here I am bothering you. Please accept my apologies, my darling." He started to rise to his feet to leave me, but I stopped him by reaching up to grab hold of the back of his coat, grabbing a handful of his backside in the process, which caused him to jump and a startled squeak sounded from his throat.

"Sit down, Tarrant," I said, releasing his bottom, which I found felt very good in my hand, and took hold of his hand, pulling him back down beside me. "I meant that I needed some time away from Her Highness and the seemingly endless parade of floral decisions and menus and everything else marriage related. I always want to see you, sweetheart; I always love to see you."

He placed his arm around my shoulders and cuddled me close against his body. "Would you think me wanton and bold if I were to kiss you right now?" he asked, raising his hand to stroke his fingers along the curve of my cheek. "I suppose that I should have more self-discipline, and that I should conduct myself in the ways of a proper gentleman, but it's a thought that nearly drives me mad every day, this need to hold you, to kiss you. That being said, may I have your lips for a moment?"

I smiled at him and leaned forward to rub the tip of my nose against his. "You don't have to give them back you know? Just keep in mind that I'll hold them for you, but they're here whenever you want them."

It made him happy to hear me say that. I could always tell when he was pleased with or by something, because for just a moment his clothes would brighten, almost as though the fabric were illuminated in some fashion. He leaned close to me and I held my breath as he drew closer, taking care to prepare myself for the onslaught of emotions that always swept through me when his lips touched mine, offering me a chance to attempt to control myself.

He kept the contact soft at first, as he always did, a gentle and tenuous brushing of his lips against mine, that grew along with our hunger, with our need, until his mouth slanted against mine and his tongue would slip between my lips, meeting, and mating with my own tongue as we tasted one another, as we explored each other.

He held me close against him for the first few moments, then took me completely by surprise by tightening his hold on me and hauling me over to where he was sitting, arranging me so that I was straddling his lap. Now, I knew that it was completely inappropriate, as a matter of fact it was downright sinful for me to be in that position, but when I felt him, felt his hardness, pressed against my softness in a way that was _very _intriguing, I decided that I could really and truly care less what was proper and what was not.

He moved his mouth away from mine to kiss my throat and I writhed against him, feeling that wondrous heat that took hold of my center when I was aroused, felt the dampening taking place within me that hallmarked my desire for him. I knew that it was a sensual torment to him, the way that I was moving against him, but he didn't seem inclined to complain.

He moved his mouth to the swell of my breasts, running his tongue along the curvilinear expanse of flesh exposed by the neckline of my dress. It was a shame that my bodice wasn't equipped with buttons, and it would take some time, and perhaps be a bit of trouble to make the whole of my flesh available to him, so I just had to make due with feeling the slick warmth of his tongue against some parts of my breasts, as opposed to all of them.

Tarrant moved his hands to my back, lightly massaging the flesh, moving downward until his hands found my backside, at which time he tightened his grip and thrust my softness against his waking flesh, our most intimate parts meeting and greeting. His hardness brushed against that magic place on my femininity when he did that, and I barely had time to gasp from the sensations that his movements inspired in me before he did it again...and again...and again.

I could feel the quickening beginning within me, could sense that I was growing more and more saturated with the dew of my arousal, could feel that I was becoming swollen as my excitement hit a peak that I had previously only reached when I was alone. For one panicked moment I considered putting a stop to what he was doing, but then I realized that I didn't want him to stop, I wanted to feel the release that I could sense was building inside of me, imagining just how wonderful it would be when that moment arrived.

It was becoming more difficult to control the whimpers and moans that were rising up from my throat, and my eyes flew to Tarrant's face, wondering what he was thinking at that moment, considering the fact that his fiancée was behaving like a shameless hussy, and what I saw in his eyes served to further my desire, rather than dampening it.

He always looked at me in a way that I would suppose that you'd describe as loving, but the look that was in his eyes at that moment could best be described as ravenous, as though he was literally hungry for me. I wondered if my eyes echoed his, because that was the way I felt for him as well...famished.

The moment was close for me, and I tore at my bodice, baring a breast for him and biting down hard on my lip to stifle a shout of pleasure as his lips closed around the offered flesh, his tongue swirling all over and around while his teeth gently nibbled. I raised myself just a little and tore at the fastening of his trousers, releasing his flesh, which was hot and silky smooth skin over a hardness that seemed almost to be alive, and I arranged my skirts so that he was pressed right up against me, with only the thin lawn of my pantalets separating his rigidity from my softness.

His eyes widened at this move of boldness on my part, then heated once more as the dampness which had saturated the thin linen of my unmentionables soaked through onto his flesh and he moved me quicker and quicker against him until, finally, that moment arrived, and I was forced to bite down on his shoulder to stifle my cries of release as wave after wave gripped me.

I had been correct in my assumption. Nothing that I'd ever experienced alone could even compare to what I'd just felt, what I was still feeling as my throat grew hoarse from the screams that I had quieted against him. It was a fortunate thing that we were to be married in two days, because after what I'd just felt, I knew that there was no way I'd be able to stay away from him.

I could see that his moment was quickly approaching, and I could see that he was a little alarmed, in spite of what had just happened, at the idea of letting go of his control. I had been wet before my moment arrived, and now the crotch of my pantalets felt positively sodden following my release, and I used that to my advantage, rubbing myself firmly against him, the increase in heat and dew making it impossible for him to fight back the inevitable.

It was amazing to watch that moment arrive for him, to watch his eyes widen, then go blind as he found his release, and it was I who became a muffler for his cries, his face buried against my chest as he continued to thrust against me, a warm wetness coursing from him to further saturate my clothing. I had an idea of what that warmth was, and a dim recollection of being told that it had to do with baby making, but all that I could decide for sure was that it was his equivalent of the dew that seeped from my femininity when I was aroused and when I reached my culmination.

We grasped one another, shuddering as the final spasms gripped hold of us, and then we quieted together, pressing small kisses here and there on one another, and I suddenly realized that we had been in there for a while, and the ball was due to start soon, and I'd have to sneak off to my room to straighten myself, as would Tarrant, and he had promised me a surprise as well. He must have come to a similar realization not long after I had and his eyes grew wide and panicked, then his face grew flushed as he looked at me, the memory of what had just taken place causing him a small amount of discomfort.

"Claire...I...I'm..."

I stopped him with my mouth, kissing him until his hands had twined into my hair. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Tarrant Hightopp," I whispered, moving my lips around to each of his cheeks, kissing him gently. "That was the most amazing thing that I've ever experienced in my life, and I won't have you blighting it by apologizing to me."

His smile was small and sheepish at first, then grew until it was pleased, overjoyed to a point that was almost arrogant, and then he slapped me lightly on my derriere before rising us to our feet. We hurried from the ballroom, rushing off to our respective rooms, praying that no one would see us and witness our disheveled state, leaving them in no doubt as to how we'd been passing the time before the ball.

Lavaliere-A pendant on a chain worn around the neck.

Tarrant was waltzing me around the room, smiling naughtily at me now and then, which caused me to blush furiously. It was amazing to think that the night after tomorrow we would be husband and wife, and approaching our marriage bed for the first time. We had been given a larger bedchamber by the queen, and I had spent whatever time could be spared decorating it.

It was there that Tarrant had presented me with not just one, but two surprises. The first was that he was defying the one tradition that Underland shared with my world, which was that the groom not be allowed to see the bride's gown. Her Majesty had commissioned a gown from a milliner that resided nearby to the palace, and quite frankly, I had been more than a little displeased with the dress that the woman had concocted, but what other choice had I been given? None whatsoever, that was, until Tarrant interceded.

His gown for me was of a pale ivory satin, in the empire waist style, decorated with cream seed pearls, with a matching train that would trail very nicely behind me as I walked up the aisle. He had fashioned a veil that would complement the gown, and had finished of the outfit with a pair of silk ivory slippers, embroidered with the same pearls as the gown. They were completely insensible, I wasn't sure when I'd ever have the chance to wear them again, but a woman didn't have to be sensible on her wedding day, for goodness' sake.

After I had oohed and ahhed over the beautiful dress I voiced my concern to Tarrant about what Her Majesty would think about the fact that we'd usurped her authority about the wedding gown. "You're to be my mate," he answered, taking my face in his hands and kissing me carefully to avoid smearing my cosmetics. "And therefore it should be my right to fashion the gown that you'll wear when we are bonded."

He sounded so confident that I felt my fear slipping away. That was when I noticed a trunk on the floor at the foot of our new bed. I turned questioningly to Tarrant and he had smiled wickedly, something that he'd been doing often since our tête-à-tête in the ballroom. "Your trousseau," he answered. "But that will remain a surprise for you until our first night as mates."

I blushed, thinking of what sort of filmy scraps of nothingness, beautifully made, no doubt, that awaited me for our wedding night. I also had to wonder when Tarrant had found the time to get all of these things made, and decided that he must have mystical abilities or some such thing that made it possible for him to accomplish several projects at one time without feeling daunted by the task.

Tarrant took a necklace from a box, a pendent sat in gold, comprised of a lily made from what looked to be amethysts. "This belonged to my mother, Lillia," he explained, fastening the necklace around my neck. "It was the only thing of hers that survived the fire, and I know that she would want you to have it."

My eyes filled with tears and I choked on the lump in my throat. I didn't have all the details of what had happened to his family, but it meant a great deal to me that he'd bestow the only memento that he had of his mother to me.

I lowered my gaze to the pendant as we danced, admiring the way that it captured the lights from the room. Tarrant noticed what I was looking at and smiled at me. "I knew that it would complement you, darling," he whispered, running his fingertip across the flower. "Of course, with your beauty, I can't imagine that there would be anything that would appear plain upon you...especially when your bosom is involved."

I laughed and lightly smacked his shoulder playfully. "Just you wait Mr. Hightopp," I said, leaning forward to quickly kiss him. "In two days I'll have you at my mercy, and we'll see who teases whom at that time."

He choked on a giggle and leaned forward, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine. "I will be looking forward to that, my love."


	13. Words That Start With The Letter M

Chapter Thirteen

Words That Start With the Letter M

Matrimony-The state or condition of being married.

Tarrant's POV

It was a lovely evening, the sky was turning pink as dusk approached, and Her Majesty's garden was aglow with firelight flies, several hundred of them, flitting here and there to provide the illumination necessary for the bonding ceremony. I was waiting beneath an arbor covered with rosy posies, cream colored ones, as was appropriate. I smoothed my clothes, taking great pride in the black wool town coat, trousers and vest. I had fashioned them for myself, of course, and had finished the look with a cotton shirt with silver buttons, white on white paisley in design and a snowy white satin cravat. The ensemble was rather tame for me, but I had brightened it with my top hat, which some would say clashed horribly with the elegant simplicity of my attire, but I felt positively naked without that hat, and had no desire to expose myself in front of this crowd. I had even fashioned myself a pair of black boots as part of my makeover, and all in all I thought I looked very nice, respectable even, if one was willing to overlook my higgledy-piggledy orange hair, wonky eyes and insipid complexion.

I had put my foot down over several aspects of this service, combining rituals that were important to Claire, observances from her world, putting them with customs that were of the norm here in Underland, hopefully making for a ceremony that would be satisfactory to both of us. Truth be told, the only thing that I wanted was to have her as my mate, but I had been told by several of my friends that these sorts of things were very important to women...ergo, I had put my foot down.

A hush fell over the garden as McTwisp made the announcement that the maiden lady, that would be Claire, was making her approach, at which time the sparrows and the wrens, joined by the larks began the music that would accompany her walk down the path strewn with honeysuckle, jasmine, lotus, orchids, and violets. Each plant held significance, whether it was a symbol of love, innocence, or rebirth. The birds and the foliage were symbols of Underland, but she had incorporated her own traditions, which were evident in the bouquet of lilies cradled in her arms and the fact that she wasn't alone as she made her way up the path, but instead was escorted on the arm of an extremely proud March Hare.

Thackery should have been ready to drop by this point, considering the fact that he'd refused all help with the after ceremony banquet, but if he was feeling stretched thin, he certainly wasn't showing it. I could see that it was confusing to some of the guests that Claire had an escort, it was unheard of in Underland, but I had decided that if it were important to her, then she would have it. Apparently it was something the father of the maiden did, but she was an orphan, just like me, and fortunately ol' Marchie had been very keen on the idea of filling in the patriarchal role for my sweet Éclair. If you were to ask me my opinion, I'd say that he loved Claire in his own frenetic way, and I do believe that she was quite fond of him as well.

I couldn't recall a single sight throughout my entire life that could match the beautiful perfection of my darling girl as she moved closer to me. The gown fit like a dream, just as I'd known it would, and she'd left her hair down, and had curled it so that it fell in loose waves down her back. Her veil was filmy around her face and her cosmetics were applied so that her big brown eyes and full lips were complimented. I saw that she was also wearing my mother's pendant, which was nice, because it made it seem like she was there to see her boy joined to his mate.

I had to keep muttering to myself to remain calm, to not act like a complete madman at my own bonding ceremony, but it was hard when I wanted more than anything to throw Claire over my shoulder and carry her to our new bed and have my wanton way with her. Memories of what had taken place in the ballroom kept plaguing my mind, and I was thankful for the fact that I'd buttoned my jacket, so that the result of my lustful thoughts wasn't on display to the guests. I had reenacted that night with my own lonesome self four times, and I was anxious to try things with her.

After what seemed like a lifetime had passed she was at last by my side. I reached down to take her hand in mine, and raised it to my lips so that I could kiss it. "Hello, handsome," she whispered, running her thumb over my fingers. I wanted to answer her, but the words wouldn't come up out of my throat, it felt too swollen, and that's when I discovered that I was getting weepy, and I could have went right on ahead and died from my embarrassment.

Two tears escaped from my eyes, but Claire brushed them away for me. "I love you, Tarrant," she whispered, and I thought to myself how fortunate I was to have her, how grateful I was for the fact that she loved me and was joining herself to me, ensuring that I wouldn't have to steal her from anyone else, because I knew in that moment that there was nothing that I wouldn't do for her, there was nothing that would keep me from making her mine.

"I love you too, my darling sweet Éclair," I answered, grateful for the fact that my throat had started working properly once more.

I was approached by Bayard and Claire by Bielle, and each were holding a roll of parchment by the ribbon that bound it. The ceremony required Claire to go first, and she took the parchment and untied it, reading briefly before joining her right hand to mine.

"_On this day, before all of these, I take you by the hand. I pledge my eternal vow to you, Tarrant Archimedes Hightopp, that I will love you from this day forward no matter what fortune, be it good or be it bad, may come our way. I'll tend you when you're sick and hold you when you're well. I pledge that I will renounce all others, and will cherish, honor, and obey you for as long as I draw breath."_

She removed the ring that she had placed on her thumb, one of a set that we'd commissioned from a jeweler that resided in the palace. Apparently it was tradition in her world to exchange what she called "wedding bands", and it was something that I found I was actually looking forward to. The plain gold band slid easily onto the fourth finger of my left hand, and I only had a moment to admire it before it was my turn.

"_On this day, before all of these, I take you by the hand. I pledge my eternal vow to you, Claire Elizabeth Quinn, that I will love you from this day forward no matter what fortune, be it good or be it bad, may come our way. I'll tend you when you're sick and hold you when you're well. I will protect you from all harms, even if my own life be taken whilst doing so. I pledge that I will renounce all others, and will cherish, honor, and never hurt you for as long as I draw breath."_

My voice was a little trembly as I spoke my vows, but that didn't seem to bother Claire, given the fact that her lip was quivering as well. I took the tiny ring that I had placed in my pocket and slid it onto her finger, raising my own hand to place it beside hers, admiring the pair united, joined at last just as I was to my eternal mate.

"Kiss her...see if you can catch her and kiss her," the crowd chanted and Claire reached back to grab her skirts and took off running, and I gave a good chase, an admirable sprint, and she managed to evade me admirably to begin with, but alas, her sprint was short-lived before I swept her up into my arms, carrying her back to the bower slung over my shoulder, smacking her backside once or twice as the crowd roared with laughter.

I lowered her back onto her feet, and she giggled while she straightened her veil and turned her face away, playing with me now, because I'd swatted her fanny for her. "Come on now lass," I said, drawing laughter from the crowd. "Don't make me beg you for a kiss."

I think that she thought about it for a minute or two, but in the end she took pity on me and stood still, giving me the opportunity to raise her veil. I stared into her eyes for a moment, and then slowly lowered my lips to hers. We had experienced many sweet and romantic kisses with one another throughout our courtship, but this one felt extra special, the first kiss that marked her as mine. I would have liked to have been able to take my time, to kiss her numerous times, but the cheers from the crowd dictated that it was time for me to stop. I was forlorn for a moment and then I remembered that our night after awaited us and that perked me up considerably. I was all set to take Claire in my arms and rush into the palace to take her straight to bed, but then Her Majesty glided by us and reminded us about the banquet that was set to commence, completely dashing any plans that I had to nibble on my sweet Éclair anytime soon.

Bugger it all.

Magical-Created by or as if by magic.

I wondered if Claire was as terrified...and as excited...as I was at that moment. Someone had come into our room and had lit candles all throughout it, fragrant beeswax candles that gave off a pleasant floral scent. I stood by the bed and took off my coat and my vest, then sat down so that I could take off my boots. I found myself staring every couple of seconds across the room, to the screen behind which my darling was changing. I was hoping that she would choose the pale green concoction from her trousseau, the one made from silk, the one that's only connection besides the shoulder straps was a thin tie on each side, connecting the front panel to the back...just the thought of her voluptuous figure wrapped in that scant amount of material made my mouth water.

I had just removed my cravat and had loosened the top button on my shirt when she stepped out from behind the screen, and it was fortunate for me that I was sitting down, the shock of seeing her thusly attired, in the exact silk creation that I'd been hoping for, with her hair hanging down her back would have been enough to sweep my feet out from underneath me. She walked over towards me, her breasts jiggling freely beneath the silk that covered them, stopping at the foot of the bed, her posture that of both an innocent girl and an alluring coquette.

"Hello, handsome," she whispered, the very same words that she'd greeted me with earlier that evening. I'd never thought of myself as handsome, not even remotely close to it, as a matter of fact, so it was especially nice to hear her describe me as such, to know that she thought that I was.

She stepped over to where I was sitting and removed my hat from atop my head, smiling while she did so. Damnation...I had completely forgotten about my hat, and had been sitting there half-dressed with the blasted thing still on my head. It was no wonder that she was smiling at me, it was probably only due to her love for me that she wasn't already laughing hysterically. I could only hope that it wouldn't come to that before the night was through.

She took my face between her hands, leaning forward to kiss me, while her fingers traveled to the buttons of my shirt, nimbly slipping each one free, pressing her hands inside my shirt, against the bare skin on my chest, and my breath caught in my throat as I felt the slide of her fingertips across the flesh that usually brought her so much pleasure. Apparently I was capable of experiencing that satisfaction myself, in addition to providing it.

She pulled my shirt free of my pants and tossed it aside, and I found myself feeling more than a little self-conscious of my peculiar skin and its varying shades of white and pink. Her skin was a lovely golden hue all over, and looked almost surreal when in contrast to my own epidermis. My embarrassment was abated, however, when she leaned forward to press kisses all over my chest, her tongue sweeping across both of the bumps that had first hardened when she ran her fingertips over them. I watched her lips as they kissed my flesh, watched as her tongue ran soft and warm over each nub of flesh, and found that I was growing more and more aroused with each moment that passed.

She pushed me back onto the bed and then she straddled my body, and I saw enough skin flashing from beneath the tied closures on each side to know that she was completely bare beneath her silky garment. I wasn't sure what I should do, or how I should proceed, but fortunately for me Claire seemed to know, and it didn't bother me any to allow her to continue in the lead, her acting as the teacher, me serving as the pupil.

Very slowly, she began to unbutton my trousers, much slower than she had the night before last, and once she had them unfastened she pushed them down to my shins, and I kicked them off. I was naked beneath my trousers and felt a moment of doubt and concern over what she was thinking that moment because she was looking at me, at that one part of my body, and for the life of me I couldn't discern the tenor of her thoughts, and that bothered me enormously.

I was hesitant to ask her what her opinion of my bare flesh was, and was pleasantly surprised when she looked up and smiled at me, a "cat that caught the canary" type of smile that made my hardened flesh grow even more rigid. "Look at you," she whispered, reaching out with her finger to trace my flesh from its hilt to its crest. "I finally get to see all of you."

I would have leapt from the bed the moment she touched me had she not been straddling my body. Who would have ever imagined her hand on my flesh would feel so differently from my own? I had felt her hand, very briefly, the other night, but this was completely different. This wasn't a hurried encounter between two people who were afraid of being caught in the act. This was our time, in our place, and we had every right to be exploring one another, and could do so anytime that pleased us from this day forward.

She moved up on the bed, brushing that soft part of her body against my hardness, and I froze as I felt the warmth, the dampness, the swollen folds that were bare to me, no diaphanous film of lawn hindering my ability to feel her this time. She thrust herself forward several times, moistening my flesh with her dew, and while doing so she untied her garment at the waist and lifted it over her head, baring herself completely to me.

"By Jove, Claire," I whispered, raising my hands to cup one breast in each hand. "You truly are the bonniest lass in all of Underland."

She smiled happily and blushed, the crimson flush spreading from her face down her throat, to color the skin atop her breasts as well. I moved my hands around to her back, pulling her forward, while I sat up enough to take one of her rosy blossoms into my mouth, licking and suckling upon the flesh, switching from one peak to the other while she moaned and writhed upon me.

Her hidden spot was growing more engorged with each moment that passed by, as was my own flesh and I rolled over on the bed, laying her on her back as I settled between her thighs, my earlier confusion as to how I should proceed leaving me as a sort of instinct took over my body.

I kissed her very deeply, my tongue plunging in to taste the sweetness of the cake that we'd shared earlier, some concoction of her world called a "wedding cake". The sugary taste of the treat was joined by Claire's special sweetness, and I enjoyed stroking the flavor into my mouth, savoring the essence of it. I took my mouth from hers, kissing my way down her throat, journeying downward until I reached her bosom and began lavishing attention to those sensitive peaks, which I knew would pleasure her.

I could feel the dampness, the heat of her brushing against me, and I realized that I wanted to feel that more intimately, I wanted to be surrounded by her, and I pressed forward into the source of that warm wetness, gasping as the tip of my flesh slipped inside of her, then a little more of me, crossing into that silken heat that gripped me tightly as I made my entrance. I knew that there was more to feel, I'd only just begun, and I continued slowly, watching Claire's face very carefully to see if I felt as amazing to her as she did to me.

She had a look on her face that almost seemed to be one of discomfort, and I stopped, frightened to continue, knowing that I was causing her pain. "Are you alright darling?" I asked worriedly. "Should I stop?"

I held my breath, waiting for her answer, scared that she might say yes. I didn't want to hurt her, but I didn't want to stop either. She felt so good, so damned good, but I knew that I'd have to stop if she wanted me to. This had to be a mutual act, one of love and of desire, or it just wouldn't be right.

"No, Tarrant," she answered, raising her legs so that her heels rested against the backs of my thighs, giving me a lot more room to work with. "I don't want you to stop, my love."

I continued to work my way inside of her, overjoyed that I wouldn't have to cease this wonderment, but stopped when I reached some sort of barrier. It felt very delicate, almost as though it weren't there at all, but as I pressed against it, Claire's eyes widened and she held her breath, her discomfort obvious on her face.

I held myself still, wondering what I could do to help her, what could be done to ease her pain and maybe even bring her pleasure, and that was when I remembered that one place that I had touched the other night, then one that sat at the apex of her threshold, and I braced my weight on one hand, the other slipping between our joined bodies to find that place on her femininity, the one that I knew would be beneficial in lessening the pain for her, or at least making it less noticeable.

I found the hidden nub of flesh and rubbed it with my fingertip, and the change in Claire was instantaneous. She started to whimper, lightly at first, then progressively louder while I stroked her, until she was writhing beneath me, her hips thrusting against my own, and as she went to pieces beneath me she thrust herself forward, and I felt the fragile barrier give way as I slipped all the way inside, my flesh buried to the hilt within her.

She cried out as though she was in pain and I froze, terrified to proceed, until she gripped at my shoulders, pulling against me and wrapping her legs around my waist. "Don't stop, Tarrant," she moaned, thrusting herself against me. "For the love of God, please don't stop."

I could feel a heat building inside me, the burning need for my own release, and I began to move inside of her, gasping with each caress as her flesh grasped and released me. My hand would never satisfy me again, not now that I'd felt what waited for me in this ecstasy that was housed betwixt my sweet Éclair's thighs. My movements grew quicker as my moment approached, and I reached beneath her body to grasp her full backside in my palms, thinking how truly gorgeous this unseen bit of her was, and how I was glad that I was the only one who would know about that fact.

My holding her in that way changed the position of my movements, and this new arrangement must have caused me to brush against the parts of her that were more sensitive to touch, because her eyes grew more and more fevered with each plunge that I made, and suddenly she stiffened beneath me, the whimpers that had been growing louder and louder rising into a cry of release that would have scared the life out of me had I not known what it was, and then she was moving against me, crying out as wave after wave of culmination swept through her, and at that moment I knew that this was her most beautiful countenance, the one that was available only to me.

With each shudder that ran through her body, her inner walls tightened on and off, a silken rhythm that soon drove me to the point where I was frantic in my movements, knowing what waited for me, and as her last spasm wracked her body I found my release, one that had me crying out my own ecstasy as I thrust into her again and again, pleasure like none I'd ever known before pouring through and out of me.

I'd never before felt the need to cry out at my moment, but there was no way that I could stifle it at that point, though my throat grew hoarse and there was no doubt that the sound was more than likely reverberating through the palace. She held me tightly through each shudder, her hands twining into my hair, while she whispered how much she loved me.

I wanted to stay that way all night, to sleep whilst still buried within her, but I knew that I'd be too heavy for her and gently moved away, laying back on the bed and gathering her up into my arms, cuddling her close. I had a huge smile pasted on my face, one that wasn't likely to fade anytime soon, and was pleased to see that she was smiling as well. We laid like that, relaxed, content, for some time, kissing now and then, both of us exhausted.

Her eyes were growing heavy and she snuggled closer to me, making my heart smile as she whispered my name and slid her hand upwards to twine once more into my hair. "Claire?" I whispered, reluctant to waken her, but burdened by the need for some information. "Do you think that anyone else feels as good as we do right now?"

She raised herself up and kissed me, one soft, and one long, followed by a brush of her nose against mine. "If it's possible for anyone else to feel as good as we do right now, then I'm happy for them, because that means that they're on top of the world...just like us."

Nothing she said could have made me happier, and I cuddled up close against her to sleep, pleased that she was finally back beside me, where she belonged.


	14. Words That Start With The Letter N

Chapter Fourteen

Words That Start With the Letter N

Newlywed-Somebody who has recently been married. (One of those "well, duh" definitions)

Claire's POV

It was so odd to think of myself as the one who would serve as a saving grace to the people of Underland, considering the fact that I'd shied away from standing up for anything for a good part of my life. At one time I had been outspoken for what I knew to be right, but I had learned the lesson that sometimes people were hurt, sometimes to the point of death, when they tried to defend what they believed in in the hardest way possible, and that had taken a good amount of the fight out of me.

This was different, the fight against Iracebeth and her ever growing army of dissidents, this had become a personal fight for me when I was told by Her Highness what the former Red Queen had done to the family of my husband. True that she didn't perpetrate the crime personally, but she had held the rein on the beast that had consumed his family with fire, therefore she was just as culpable as the slain monster, and that reason alone was enough to fill me with the courage and indignation necessary for the impending battle...well, at least I hoped so.

We were standing at the longest table in the solarium, looking at the maps, every one of us disheartened by the slash of red encroachment that covered Her Majesty's kingdom. Each day there were reports of new attacks, homes burned, while those who would not switch their allegiance from Mirana to Iracebeth were murdered or enslaved. Fortunately, our numbers remained firm, but for how long? It was a certainty that there were many currently residing in the palace who would prove to be turncoats, but it was difficult to determine whom they were, for they hid themselves very well.

I was concentrating on the map in front of me when I felt the brushing of a boot against my foot, a touch that ran up and over the surface of my shoe. I continued to hold my gaze on the diagram of Marmoreal, but a smile tickled the side of my mouth as the boot became more insistent against my foot, its owner demanding my attention, until at last I raised my eyes to meet the piercing gaze of my husband, who was looking at me in a way that left no doubt as to what was on his mind.

Three days had passed by since our nuptials had taken place, and it made me blush when I thought of the times that we'd since been intimate with one another. Every morning when we awakened, and each night before we slept, he united his body with mine, and the need that we had for one another was always with us, no matter where the day took us, an insatiable desire for our bodies, our hearts, our minds and yes, even our souls, to be entwined with the other's.

"You need to behave," I whispered, glancing around the table to see if anyone had taken notice of his flirtation. Thankfully, they all appeared to be too caught up in what was laid out before them to detect the fact that two in the room were not one hundred percent involved with the situation at hand.

"Why do I have to behave?" he whispered back, reaching out his hand to run the tip of his finger across my hand. "After all, we are still in our time of after bonding bliss, so it should be expected that we are unable to restrict our need for one another."

There was a lot of truth in that logic, but somehow I sincerely doubted that Her Highness would be pleased to discover that her two champions, who were supposed to be preparing for the predestined conflict, were playing footsie and staring into one another's eyes instead, despite their recently married status.

"I can't concentrate on the task at hand if you keep distracting me," I murmured, the touch of his skin against mine bringing all sorts of lascivious images to mind, reflections that made me blush. "All I can think about is you and I in our bed; and the fact that we're both naked and entwined in that bed are making me forget all about my duties to Underland, my love."

His gaze grew more intense as I spoke, and I could imagine the thoughts that were teasing him at that moment, just as they were tantalizing me. I was envisioning the way that his tongue felt on my nipples, and of the feather soft strokes of his finger as he massaged that sweet spot between my legs to full, aching awareness, and I wondered if he was thinking of the way it felt when my intimate muscles squeezed upon him when I reached my summit, he said that it was like a warm silken cocoon that massaged his manhood with each pulse of release that coursed through me, or maybe he was hearing the throaty moans, the whimpers that rose from my throat while he plunged inside of me.

"I do believe that you are very preoccupied at the moment, my darling," he said, leaning forward as he whispered to me. "I think that you would like for me to pull you under this table and strip you naked, wouldn't you?"

Merciful heavens, what was I supposed to say to that? I could lie and deny the fact that what he had proposed sounded positively divine to me, but then, how could I tell him that...here...with all of these people around? That would be naughty..._deliciously_ naughty.

"Tarrant, be sensible," I answered, the huskiness in my voice betraying my attempt to appear austere. "There will be plenty of time for that later on, sweetheart."

"Plenty of time for _what_ later on?" he answered, the burr in his voice becoming more pronounced, just as it always did when he was aroused. "Tell me what it is that I'm going to be doing to ye lass."

"Maybe we should consider what it is that _I'm _going to do to both of you if you don't pay attention to the task at hand."

Her Majesty's voice was devoid of its usual lyrical tone, and gave the impression instead of a teacher who had just caught her pupils misbehaving in class. Tarrant moved away from me very quickly, straightening his back and giving Her Highness his complete attention. I endeavored to do so as well, but was suddenly seized by a case of the giggles.

Several of those in attendance seemed to be horrified by not only my startling lack of decorum, but also by the fact that even after I had been reprimanded I continued to carry on with a new sort of bad behavior. I honestly tried to cease my sniggering, but the more I tried to quiet myself, the louder I grew, until soon I was snorting from beneath the hand that I'd clamped over my mouth.

I looked over at my new husband to see if he was as scandalized by my conduct as the others were, but I should have known that he wouldn't be upset, just because I was laughing like a loon, and sure enough his eyes were dancing merrily, and it wasn't long before he was chuckling along with me, but not before apologizing to Her Highness for the fact that we were both behaving very rudely.

"Bonding ceremonies are to only be performed between two consenting adults," Her Majesty said sternly, though there was a noticeable twinkle in her eyes. "Honestly, one would think that the two of you were no more than thirteen years of age. Please try to pay attention to the task at hand."

"Please forgive me for my deplorable manners, Your Highness," I answered, aiming for an air of contrition, and almost making it successful, with only a small hint of my humor evident in my voice. "I was behaving very badly."

"Naughty, _naughty_ girl," Tarrant whispered seductively to me from across the table, and I could have killed him, or at the very least maimed him because he knew what that did to me, knew about the thrilled shiver that coursed through my body when I heard him say anything to me in that tone of voice. He could be asking me to pass the salt at dinnertime, and just so long as he asked in that voice I would feel a nearly overwhelming urge to leap on him and rip his clothes from his body.

Before I could tear into him I noticed that Her Majesty's gaze had sharpened on him, and I stifled the urge to giggle yet again. "What was that you said Mr. Hightopp?" she asked, and I found that it was very difficult to restrain myself from pointing a finger in his direction and taunting him.

"Just you wait, little missy," he growled, making that damnable quivering begin inside me once more.

"I was just pointing out to my beloved that she was behaving very badly, Your Highness," he answered, winking at me as I gasped aloud with outrage. "You'll have to forgive her, Your Majesty. Sometimes she finds it difficult to resist me, no matter how many times I tell her that she must, for all our sakes."

I knew that it was not only impolite to gape at someone, but it also made one appear to be a tad bit simpleminded when they did so, and people were just waiting for drool to dribble down one's chin, but I just couldn't help myself, in spite of how foolish I may have appeared whilst doing so. I couldn't believe that he would say such a thing...at least not in front of so many witnesses. The part about his irresistibility was true, but he didn't have to tell everyone about it. More than likely they had heard the evidence of his power over me already, given the facts that I was very vociferous in my moment of release, and all in attendance made their home inside the palace.

"She does appear to find you to be quite a temptation indeed, Mr. Hightopp," Her Majesty answered, her gaze moving between Tarrant and me appraisingly. "But perhaps you shouldn't be so hasty to point out her longing for you when you so obviously yearn for her with just as much fervor, and not everyone can appreciate being teased in front of a crowd."

Tarrant nodded his head in agreement, and then seemed to become conscious of something that must have eluded his awareness up until that point. His eyes flew to my face, concern washing over his features. "Don't be mad at me for keeps, Claire," he said, reaching across the table to take hold of my hands. "I was only playing with you, I swear it, darling."

I could have made him suffer; it would have been easy for me to do so since he was already working under the impression that I was upset with him, but he was so sweet and besides which, I loved him and hated to do anything that might cause him any anguish. "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart," I answered, stroking my thumb against the back of his hand. "Maybe I was a little shocked by what you said, but I wasn't and I'm not angry with you, I promise."

Everyone in the room seemed almost mesmerized by the scene that had unfolded within their midst, and it was obvious to everyone, Her Highness included, that there would be no returning their attention to the "task at hand" and she called for a short breather so that everyone could have luncheon and a little rest, ninety minutes before we reconvened.

Tarrant stared across the table at me, and I knew what question it was that was asking itself to me from his eyes, and that was whether or not we should waste any of the time with the consumption of food, or should we just go straightaway to the intimate pleasures that we'd been teasing one another with across the table.

What was a girl to do?

Nostalgia-A mixed feeling of happiness, sadness, and longing when recalling a person, place or event from the past or the past in general. (Pretty much just sadness in this instance)

Tarrant's POV

In the end we were kept from any recreation whatsoever when that blasted twit McTwisp grabbed hold of Claire and I and had escorted us to the dining room before we could escape...interfering little twaddleswop.

If that hadn't been bad enough, the Tweedle brothers, both Dee and Dum had wandered back into Marmoreal, having set out in a life of their own, and they had brought some interesting information on Iracebeth and Stayne, news that might just give us a head's up on where they were hiding. It wasn't that I had any bad feelings towards the rotund duo, but damnation, if they managed to corner me and commence their habit of ceaseless blabber, it could be a week or more before I would manage to get into my sweet Éclair's knickers, and that just wasn't acceptable to me.

She got sideswiped on her way back to the solarium by Marchie, and I could see that my doom was near when the Tweedles, their faces brightening when they saw me, started bounding across the dining room towards me, and I barely escaped, fleeing for the safety of my eardrums by slipping out a side door, one that opened into a scarcely used corridor.

It would take me longer to reach my destination from this passageway, but hopefully Her Highness would overlook my tardiness when I told her that it was out of self-defense that I had chosen to take the long way 'round. It was strange that I had ended up in this particular corridor, one that I knew well, but had put out of my mind until that moment. This was the passageway that ran beside the garden where Her Majesty had held parties in the past, many years before, and it was there that the Jabberwock had struck, the devastation so great that the White Queen had ordered it closed once and for all. There was a giant picture window in the wall of the passageway, and it offered me a devastating vantage point to look out over the blackened columns and scorched ground, the hellacious landscape where my kindred had been decimated right before my eyes.

I closed my eyes and suddenly it was Horunvendush Day once more, and my clan and I stood proudly at one end of the garden, watching as Her Majesty and her court had made their appearance. We had all been present, from our Laird down to the tiniest bairn, brand-new top hats on each and every each head.

What a proud day that had been for us, all of the clan Hightopp, to be included in the celebrations. We were mere employees of Her Highness, but she wasn't one who stood on ceremony where things like a person's possession or lack of title were concerned, and always allowed all of those who lived in her kingdom to attend these events.

The day, which had been filled with happiness and sunshine, had suddenly grown dark, and I could still remember the terror that had seized my heart. A beast like none that I had ever beheld had swooped down upon our party, and the White Knight, who held the mighty Vorpal Sword in hand, had taken one look at the great monster and had fled from the garden, never looking back. I know this because I watched...hoping and praying against all odds...but the Knight didn't even falter in speed, not even when the screams of terror and the shrieks of agony had filled the air, along with the ghastly stench of burning flesh.

I hadn't known which way to go, which way to turn, and amidst the crowd that was fleeing helter-skelter I had spotted Her Majesty and that was when her horse had reared and knocked her to the ground, her crown tumbling from her head as she landed. I had run to the horse, had grabbed the reins and calmed the creature, knocking my own hat from my head in the process, and had led the Queen to safety, away from the murderous gaze of the Jabberwock, and I should have continued to look at her, she had begged me not to look back, but in the end I hadn't been able to stop myself.

It was then that I saw Ilosovic Stayne, accursed Knave of Hearts, seize the Vorpal Sword in his hand, raising it high above his head to wave it at the winged beast that had destroyed my life, driving the creature away to return to its lair. They left, triumphant in the bid of the Queen's sister to overthrow the kingdom, and amid the massacre that had taken place there remained one Hightopp, just one out of several, just me, Tarrant Hightopp.

I had returned to the garden once the Queen and surviving members of court had been accounted for and had found my hat, which had been so fine and so new just that morning, trodden upon and singed. With one final gesture of bravery I had brushed it off and placed it upon my head, my bearing proud until the wails of grief had become too much to stifle and I had collapsed to the razed ground, my heart aching as it broke in two all over again.

I shook myself clear of the memory, choking on sobs as tears coursed down my face. Oh, of all the foolish things to do, carrying on in that fashion when Her Majesty was awaiting my return, my participation in the events that that would bring about the ruination of the red witch and her demon once and for all. I brushed the tears off of my face and turned away from the window, determined that I would go to the solarium and be useful to those around me, but was stopped in my tracks by a man whose approach had gone unnoticed by me, a strange man, who was almost bullish in appearance.

He was grinning at me, a cruel sort of smirk that told me that he was making fun of me. I murmured for him to please excuse me and attempted to go around him, but he reached out with one beefy hand and stopped me in my tracks.

"Mightily sissified of you to be in here snivelin' like some bitch," he sneered, laughing as my annoyance surged to anger. "You're reaming that little hussy wife of yours every night, so what is it that's got you whinin' around like a cunt?"

I didn't understand all of his words, but I understood the tenor of his voice well enough. I could feel myself shaking and my hands clenched and unclenched, and I knew that it was only a matter of moments before I did my best to rearrange the face of my harasser.

"It would be unwise for you to continue in this fashion, sir," I hissed, the fire in my eyes growing hotter and hotter. "I don't take well to those who would malign the honor of my mate."

He laughed again, as though I were of no more concern to him than a bothersome gnat. Perhaps he was depending on his brutish mass being enough of a weapon against me, but I knew the strength that lay behind my rage, and my blood was pumping very fast through my veins.

"Calm down, you little albino freak," he said, holding me captive by my hands. "One of us is going to get hurt if you keep on the way that you are, and it sure as hell ain't gonna be me. The truth of the matter is that I know that little fireball that you're married to...quite intimately, as a matter of fact...she just don't remember that yet. Why don't you tell her that I said hi and that I'll be seeing her again real soon, okay? I owe her one for the shredding that was done to my jewels."

He drew back and then viciously slammed a beefy fist into my stomach, knocking me to the ground. I tried to bounce back up to my feet, but the pain was too intense and I dropped down once more, holding onto my aching guts and doing my best to keep the groans from my pain to myself. The brute walked away, laughing hysterically, and I vowed to myself that I would pay the bastard back, one way or another.

A puff of smoke suddenly appeared next to my head, and Chessur's face materialized, a mixture of concern and fury on his furry countenance. "Don't worry, Hatter," he said, placing one paw against my forehead. "I already sent for help and they're on their way. There's something that I need to tell you before they get here, though. And it's news that's going to make you mad, but since you're still circling that emotion, I don't see the harm in reviving it inside of you."

A/N: I changed the location of where the attack by the Jabberwocky took place to suit my story, and don't worry...the mystery with this wanker that keeps showing up will be solved fairly soon and he will definitely receive his comeuppance.


	15. Words That Start With The Letter O

Chapter Fifteen

Words That Start With the Letter O

Outrage-Intense anger and indignation aroused by a violent or offensive act.

Tarrant's POV

I had to admit that it was rather nice to have Claire hovering over me while I lay upon our bed, but the fact that my stomach was throbbing like a toothache made for a less than pleasant reason_ why _she was fussing over me. I don't think that it would have surprised me in the least if Her Majesty's Healers had informed me that the brute had obliterated my guts altogether with the blow that he had delivered to my tummy.

I thought of everything that he'd said to me in those moments before he hit me, some of the words had been unfamiliar to me, but I'd known that they were both filthy and cruel by the way that he'd said them. What bothered me the most was that he'd said that he knew Claire "intimately" and I had to wonder what he was alluding to with those particular words. I knew in my heart that my mate was an innocent, had been the first time we joined together as one, and even if she hadn't been, I wouldn't have held that knowledge against her, but I was also a jealous man, possessive of what was mine, and I wanted to know everything that had passed between my love and the bounder who had attacked me.

"Who is he, Claire?" I asked quietly, and she grew very still, the hand that had been smoothing my hair away from my forehead pausing and then tangling in my hair as she took a deep, shuddering breath. Well, apparently she did know something, and judging by the stricken expression on her face, it wasn't good.

"I don't know who he is for certain," she answered, pulling her hand free of my hair, turning to walk to the window and gaze outside. "He seems very familiar to me, but I still can't place the wherefores and whys, not to mention the when of that recognition."

She was speaking the truth, that much I could see, not that she'd ever lie to me anyway, but even with that knowledge I still felt a burning feeling in my gut, that went beyond the blow that I'd received, and I just couldn't shake the need to speak out, to voice my jealousy.

"He made mention that you didn't remember him," I said, damning the accusatory tone in my voice, yet unable to stop the emotion that was causing me to react in that fashion. "He also said that he knew you, that he knew you _intimately_, as a matter of fact."

She turned from the window to look at me, a spark of anger lighting her eyes, while at the same time they seemed to be darkened by hurt. "What is it that you're accusing me of, my dear?" she asked quietly, the hushed tone of someone who was struggling against the urge to blow their top. "Do you honestly think that I would hide that sort of knowledge from you, from my husband, the fact that I'd been with another man? Did it escape your notice on our wedding night that I was an innocent, my love? Perhaps you missed the bloodstains on our sheets, the ones that proved that it was the first time that I'd laid with a man."

Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her voice was shaky as she explained herself to me. I cursed myself for making her vindicate herself, for treating her, my mate in life, as though she were some common criminal. Claire would never lie to me, even though she had withheld the information that this blackguard had attempted to force himself upon her, and I had to hear that news from Chessur. I was considering that fact when it dawned on me what his insinuation had meant. He had attempted to take her forcefully in an intimate fashion, and was taunting both her and me with what he'd said. I knew that I was the first man that she'd lain with, I had concluded that her discomfort, and the fragile barrier that I had rended that night, along with the evidence of blood had been a testimony for her innocence, verification that I was her first...her _only_. It seemed damned unfair that a man didn't have to suffer personally through such things his first time, but there was a great deal of unfairness in life, wasn't there?

"Come here, darling," I said, reaching out a hand to her, and for a fraction of a moment I thought that she'd refuse me, but then she took a deep breath, wiping a tear off of her cheek before joining her hand with mine. I pulled her down onto our bed, and waited for her to snuggle up against me, as she normally would, but it was evident in the stiffness of her posture, and the look on her face that she wasn't going to be swayed as easily as I'd hoped she would.

"I should have recognized his words for what they were to begin with, my love," I whispered, sliding my arm around her and doing my best to coax her into cuddling. "I won't make excuses for myself, but he caught me at a very vulnerable moment, while I was remembering my family, and I'm a possessive man, an obsessively selfish man when it comes to my woman, and the words that he used to taunt me made me want to kill him. It also hurt me that you didn't want me to know what he did to you. I'm sworn to protect you, I can't stand the thought of you being treated in that manner, and it made me feel helpless when Chessur told me what happened."

"Damned feline," she answered, finally doing as I wanted by snuggling her body against mine, which caused a sudden flare-up down south that suggested that not all of my body parts had received the notice that I was hurt, either that or they had heard and just didn't care. "He promised me that he wouldn't breathe a word of what happened to you. I should have known that he would break his word."

She was a stubborn woman, something I secretly loved, and I had to appreciate her anger because I knew that it had been born from a desire to protect me, although I was the one who was sworn to protect her. I also wasn't a complete weakling, for goodness' sake, and she might have shown a little more confidence in my abilities, which made me just a tad bit irritated with her.

"He kept his word to you," I countered, which caused a very amusing and very dangerous look of outrage to blossom on her face. "He didn't _breathe _a word to me about what happened; he spoke the words instead."

She continued to look at me, indignation changing to amazement as she shook her head and rolled her eyes heavenward. I wasn't sure why she did that, but I didn't like it very much because it made me feel like she was denigrating me.

"Of all the equivocating nonsense I've ever hear, that has got to be the worst," she said, her voice ripe with annoyance. "I made it clear to him that I didn't want you to be told, I didn't want you to react like a knight defending his lady's honor, for heaven's sake! The man might have hurt you, or even worse, so I made him promise that he'd keep it from you."

I was angry by this time, the majority of my ire aimed at the man who had tormented both me and my mate, and apparently Marchie as well. Ignoring the ache in my stomach I moved out of Claire's embrace and strode across the room, tossing aside a chair that had dared to be located in my path, stopping before the window that she'd gazed out of, struggling to regain control of my temper before I said or did anything that I would regret.

"It wasn't equivocating nonsense at all!" I shouted, the sound making me even angrier than I had been. I didn't want to raise my voice to her, not to my sweet Éclair, but damn it all, she had to see that her actions, no matter how noble, had caused me a good deal of pain and anguish. "I may not be a knight, but you are my lady, and I deserved to know what had happened, no matter what the consequences of my actions may have been. What is a little physical pain, a blow to my pride when compared to what could have happened to you? Dammit, Claire, I had a right to know, and I have a right to be angry about the fact that I didn't, but I'm still going to apologize for the way that I'm acting right now, because I know that I'm hurting you. It's just because I love you so much, and the idea of life without you is unbearable. It also makes me furious to think that I'm not really a man in your eyes, and that you don't really take me seriously, that I'm somewhat of a joke to you."

Her face was a kaleidoscope of emotions, from injured to apologetic, and finally to enraged. Oh cricket...I had really done it now. I wondered if I should fall to my knees and plead for her forgiveness, or would it be wiser to dive behind an object that could provide me with a decent amount of shelter?

"I don't see you as a man!" she asked, her voice rising with each word until she was all but screeching at me. She rose from the bed, and in that furious moment I had a glimpse of the warrior that resided within her, and I'll be perfectly honest...I was scared. "That's a _hell_ of a thing for you to say to me, Tarrant Hightopp!" she continued, making her way across the bedroom to stand in front of me, her nostrils flaring, her sweet lips trembling, and her eyes filling with angry tears once more. "I have certainly noticed your masculinity, my love. It's rather difficult for me to not take notice of it when it's inside my body, and before you say one thing about one manhood having nothing to do with the other, let me say that you are one of the two strongest men that I have ever known, and the other one is dead, which makes you the most stalwart of all, okay?"

It was truly amazing how some of the most beautiful things in life are oftentimes the deadliest, and this was evidenced to me this first time that I'd ever seen my love in this all-consuming fury that was coursing through her. Her words both shamed and bolstered me, and I had to wonder if all men took pride from the fact that their beloved in life found their manhood to be...noteworthy. I wanted to hold her and calm her, to kiss her and soothe her, but I'd be damned if I didn't want to lift her skirts and bury myself between her thighs even more desperately.

I crossed the room and drew her into my embrace, effectively avoiding every smack she threw my way, taking her lips passionately with my own after narrowly avoiding the pinch of her teeth on my lips. She stubbornly kept her lips sealed for the first few moments, avoiding my tongue as though it were coated with plague of some sort, but after much gentle coaxing on my part I convinced her to let me in and took full advantage of her surrender to kiss both her and myself senseless.

I reached down and took hold of her derriere, which I had grown to love quite desperately since first laying eyes upon its full roundness and thrust her upwards until her softness made connection with my erect flesh, and I grinned wickedly as she gasped into my mouth, my self-pleasure transforming into a gasp of my own when she slid her hand between our bodies and boldly caressed my turgid flesh.

I endured the sweet torture for as long as was possible, which admittedly wasn't very long before I wrenched my mouth away from hers, my breath escaping from my throat in labored pants. "Come to bed with me, sweetheart," I asked, no, make that begged. "Let me lay you down and love you Claire, pretty please, with sugar on top?"

She smiled and leaned forward to capture my lip with her teeth, biting me very gently. "Only if you carry me," she answered, and I wondered for a moment if she was trying to kill me, I mean for goodness' sake, I'd been beaten just a couple of hours earlier, but then I realized that it would be unwise to remind her of that. If she remembered my injury she'd probably make me do without the warmth that I so desperately needed to plunge myself into at that moment.

"As you wish, my lady," I said, lifting her up into my arms. There was hardly any pain at all, which surprised me. Maybe the swelling in my trousers had taken complete control over my body, and it wouldn't be until afterward that I would feel the pain, but at that moment I could have cared less. I was a very hungry man, ravenous for something sweet, and the only thing that would satisfy my appetite was my Éclair, and the secret honey that only I had tasted.

Ominous-Suggesting or indicating that something bad is going to happen or be revealed.

Claire's POV

My body was still buzzing from the intensity of the release...no, make that the releases that I had experienced while Tarrant took me quite thoroughly in our marriage bed. I had been worried about his sore muscles, and the possibility of internal damages, but hadn't made mention of them because I was afraid that would mean that we couldn't be with one another, and dammit, I had wanted him very badly at that moment. He hadn't seemed to experience any pain, thank God, and I had left him in bed with orders that he should rest while I sought out Her Highness to see if anything further had been seen or heard from this man called Mr. Winston, or if anyone had any clue as to where he'd came from. Tarrant hadn't wanted me to go by myself, so I had recruited Mallymkun, the dormouse that seemed so distrustful of me, as my companion, determined that I would win her over as my friend.

She seemed intent on ignoring me, no matter how I tried to engage her in conversation, and I sighed to myself. I couldn't understand what I had ever done to make her dislike me so much. Every now and then she would turn her nose towards me and sniff, then shake her head as though she were disgusted, and I couldn't understand what she was doing until I suddenly caught a whiff of myself. Dear me, I reeked of the musky scent that filled the room whenever Tarrant and I were intimate with one another. Why oh why hadn't I bathed myself and changed into clean clothes before going to the Queen? What if she smelled Tarrant on me and knew what we'd been up to as well? I'd just die of embarrassment; that was what would happen. The best that I could hope for was that it was only evident to Mallymkun because she had an animal's sense of smell...I could wish for that at least, couldn't I?

"Have you and Tarrant been friends for a long time?" I finally asked, my cheeks still burning from my discomfort, but I was desperate to break the silence in the room.

She seemed confused for a moment; as though she wasn't sure who it was that I was referring to. "Me and Hatter you mean?" she squeaked, her tiny voice coming out a lot louder than I would have thought possible. "We've been close for years. The absolute best of friends for many, many years we have been, me and the Hatter."

If I didn't know any better I'd say that there was an implication beneath that statement, one that suggested that she viewed Tarrant in a way that didn't exactly qualify as "just a friend". It was no wonder that she acted the way that she did around me. She saw me as an interloper, a jezebel who had stolen him away. I felt sorry for her, thinking how it must feel to be in love with someone who didn't love you back, at least not in that way, then to be assaulted nasally with the evidence that the man that you loved had been intimate with someone else, even if that someone else was his wife.

"Tarrant's very fortunate to have so many friends," I said, doing my best not to betray the fact that I'd discovered the tenor of her emotions. "It must have been a comfort to him, in his time of need, to know that he was loved."

The look that she gave me said that she didn't fully trust me, but also that I had taken her by surprise, and that it was a pleasant disbelief as well. "He was really bad off after Alice left," she explained. "He just never seemed happy again; well at least he didn't until...that is, before he...met you, that is."

Mallymkun was a doubtful being by nature, I had a feeling, but she also seemed to be one who was fair, and I could all but see the wheels turning in her head as we walked along, and I hoped that maybe we could form if not a lasting friendship then at least a mutual respect for one another.

We passed by a rarely used corridor on our way to see Her Majesty, and I had my head turned away from it while we walked, looking instead at Mallymkun, so I missed the man who darted out from the shadows within that passageway, only taking notice when I saw Mally's eyes grow wide, and saw her tiny paw dart toward her rapier, but she wasn't quick enough. He was on her before she could draw her sword, throwing a burlap bag over her, scooping her inside and closing the bag with a knot.

"Have you figured out who I am yet, girlie?" he leered as he tossed the bag against the wall of the corridor. I shuddered when I heard the thump that I knew was Mally's body, and when I heard the squeak of pain. The man called Mr. Winston grabbed hold of my arm, and roughly twisted it back behind my body and though it hurt like the devil I refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out. "I gotta say that's mighty disappointing to me. I would have thought that I made more of an impression on you that day."

There was something so familiar about his voice, the Southern tones that used to be an everyday occurrence in my life. There was also something in his eyes, the soulless orbs that stared at me in a way that was cruel, the hateful lust that was inside him staring out at me. "Maybe this will help you remember," he continued, the hand that was holding my arm twisting my wrist until I thought that it would break.

"_No, please don't hurt him_," he said mockingly, his voice rising until it was a freakish mimic of a young girl's...of my young voice. "_He didn't mean to do it. Please mister, please don't hurt him_."

I was determined not to react, but it was then that I knew him, the bastard. "_She didn't do anything at all_," he continued, cackling as the tears that had brimmed in my eyes poured down my cheeks. "_Please don't...please don't...why are you doing that to her_?"

I was crying in earnest by this time, as much as I hated myself for doing so. Every memory of that day, each more horrific than the other poured forth from the darkest part of my mind, that long ago pain that I had buried as deeply as was possible tore at me, just as a beast would with its razor-sharp claws.

"I remember every word you spoke that day," he whispered in my ear, and I gagged against the urge to vomit as I felt the tip of his tongue rub disgustingly along the outer curve of my ear. "You were so sweet when you begged. I want you to beg me again, girlie, and this time I'm gonna be inside you while you plead for mercy. Do you remember me now, huh?"

I couldn't turn my body to face him, not with the way that he was holding my arm, but I managed to move my head so that I was staring at him, and I hoped that all of my hatred showed as I glared at him, not that it would do me any damn good.

"Winston Rayburn, captain of the Home Guard sons of bitches that took my family away from me," I answered, proud of the venom that made itself evident in my words. "I was hoping that somebody would have killed you by now, but no mind...you will be dead soon enough."

The smirk was erased from his face instantly, as though by magic, and it was my turn to sneer at him, but my triumph was short lived as he hit me hard on the side of my head with his fist, and darkness overtook me as I fell to the ground. My last conscious thoughts were that I was scared and that I wanted Tarrant, and then I gave in to the need to sleep.


	16. Words That Start With The Letter P

Chapter Sixteen

Words That Start With the Letter P

Warning: This chapter will contain prejudiced language that is highly offensive to me, but plays into the caliber of the villain who is present in this chapter, as well as the general mindset of the time and place in which he resided. I would like to apologize in advance to anyone who is insulted by these words, and please know that I find them just as despicable as you do.

Palpable-An emotion that is so intense that it can almost be felt physically.

Claire's POV

_It was a sunny day, a cheerful and hopeful day when everything went to Hell. Momma had put me to work down in the cellar, clearing out a space for the crabapple preserves that we'd worked on all throughout the morning. I made up stories, fantastical tales of princesses and of unicorns, twirling around the cellar as I imagined my valiant knight riding up on his snow-white steed to steal me away for some sort of romantic adventure. My mind and my heart were that of a fourteen year old girl, and therefore I had no idea of what passionate love truly was, so my fantasies were quite tame and innocent._

_I was wrapped up in the kiss of my handsome knight, his lips imagined to be found on the back of my hand, and it wasn't until I heard the thundering of hoof beats on the earthen path that led to our home that I knew we had visitors. I rushed over to the table that rested beneath the window looking into the basement and hopped on top of it, and my breath caught in my throat and my heart started hammering in my chest when I saw that it was Home Guard, six of them in all, and I knew that there was only one reason why they were at our home, and it was a reason that chilled me to the depths of my soul._

_Daddy was a rarity amongst Southern gentleman, a rebel in the truest sense of the word as opposed to the moniker that was given to the Confederate soldiers. He truly believed that everyone had been created by the good Lord as equal to all, and that none should suffer simply because they were different. He was also staunchly against the war, thinking it despicable that grown men carried on in that sort of fashion. An old farm injury excused him from the pressure to serve, but it didn't sit well with the Home Guard that he'd turned down their invitation to join them as well, and there were constant rumors floating about that our family not only sheltered the runaway slaves, helping them on their road to freedom, but also that he helped all deserters of the Confederate army, which was treasonous behavior._

_I could hear Momma rushing around above my head, her voice high and panicky, and I could also hear the low rumble of Daddy's voice as he did his best to calm her. He sent her down the stairs into the cellar, and told us to stay there, to hide. I didn't want him to go out and face those men alone, I wanted to help, but my mother told me in no uncertain terms that she'd flat wear me out if I even tried to leave that cellar, and I sat down beside her on the floor, waiting and praying. Momma was crying very softly, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold her emotions at bay._

_The voices of the Guard carried easily into the basement, and it made me angry to hear what they were saying to my Daddy, calling him a nigger lover and a turncoat. The ignorant bastards obviously didn't know the definition of the word 'turncoat', considering the fact that I had yet to hear of any deserter who had gone over to the Union side to fight against the South, but what could you expect from a group a men with the worst sort of pack mentality that could be found, who were hateful enough to use that vulgar word that so many that I'd grown up around used when speaking of those that they'd enslaved?_

_I had been raised to believe that I was neither better nor worse than any other person is at birth, but that there would be plenty of people who exceeded me in goodness, and even more that would sink to low levels that I would never consider. Both Daddy and Momma fought against that which was wrong and stood up for what was right and I knew, sad as it was to say, that those beliefs made our family outcasts, nearly on the same level as lepers in our community._

_Daddy never spoke a word while they were cutting him down, portraying another belief that he clung to that it would never do any good to bring yourself down to the level that scum like the Guard members slithered around. It wouldn't make any difference to them if someone carried on like a madman, and in the end would do well to justify the actions that would follow an outburst like that, and they would point out that your murder had been an unfortunate, but necessary action on their part._

"_Where's that high and mighty bitch that you married hiding?" a voice carried over the rest of the Guard, a voice that filled me equally with disgust and with fear. Winston Rayburn was a vicious animal, who always leered at me in church, and I knew that he had it out for my Daddy, had wanted to kill him on several different occasions. It would seem that he was confident that he had the absolute upper hand. "Where's that sweet piece of tail that you helped into this world, Quinn? I'll find her eventually and when I do I'll make you watch everything that I'm gonna do to her. Would you like that?"_

_I pleaded in my mind for Daddy to ignore what he'd said, but my father was a proud man, utterly devoted to my mother and I, and I knew that he'd never stand back and allow someone to speak about me or my Momma that way. I stood up to look out the window, ignoring my mother's command that I sit down and stay quiet. I could see Daddy's face, could see the anger in his eyes, and I pled with him, though he couldn't hear me, I whispered appeals that he not react, but he did not hear me, and even if he had, he probably wouldn't have been able to stop himself from responding._

"_Tell me something please Mr. Rayburn," he said, addressing the leader of the Guard, the scorn that he felt towards the other man very evident in his voice. "Do you consider yourself to be a God-fearing man?"_

"_Oh no, Daddy," I whispered, shaking my head when I saw the brutish man that my father had addressed poker up on his horse, the smirk that had peeked out from beneath his beard turning down at the corners into a confused frown. _

"_Well, I attend church every Sunday," Rayburn answered slowly. "You ought to know that considering the fact that you are a member there as well."_

"_Yes, Mr. Rayburn, I'm well aware of that fact, but I wasn't asking about your church attendance, I was asking about the state of your soul," Daddy responded, and my stomach sank because I knew exactly where this conversation was headed, and it wasn't going to be a good direction for anyone in my family._

'"_What exactly are you hinting at, Quinn?" Rayburn asked, his anger becoming more evident as his fellow Guards began chuckling and whispering, enjoying the fact that he was being made to feel embarrassed by my father. They all took their orders from Rayburn, but he was just as despised amongst them as he was amongst everyone else in the community._

"_I was merely stating that if you are a man who holds the value of the salvation of your soul near and dear, I'd remember that both rape and murder are acts of sin, not to mention that hatred that courses through your body to spill forth on your fellow man. I would advise you to consider some serious praying, Mr. Rayburn. The good Lord doesn't appreciate his commandments being trodden upon in such a frequent and criminal fashion."_

_Daddy had said nothing that wasn't true, but men like Rayburn didn't have any interest in the truth, nor in what was righteous. They only cared about their own agendas and a skewed vision of the rights and wrongs of things. I thought for a moment that maybe they would just arrest my father, which was bad enough, but that idea was proven wrong when I saw Rayburn place his hand on his sword, and in that moment I ran from the cellar, screaming for my daddy, and my mother tore some of my dress away while trying to stop me, but I wasn't about to stay there, hiding, while this monster killed the best man that I had ever known._

_I made it outside in time to look into the eyes of my father, which were frightened and angry, and also sad, but which brightened for just a moment at the sight of me. I was there to exchange that one last look with him before his eyes grew pained, as Rayburn sank his sword into my father's chest, snuffing the life from his body as the blade pierced his lung and sliced into his heart. I screamed and screamed, pleading uselessly for them to spare my Daddy, but it was too late for him to be saved. My father tried to speak, to say something to me, but no sound came forth, save for the gurgle of blood that flowed forth to wet his lips and dribble down his chin to stain his shirt before he fell lifelessly to the ground._

_I sank down to my knees, tears streaming down my cheeks as I stared at my father. I felt numb, almost comatose, and heard only dimly my Momma's shriek of sorrow and fury as she ran out of the house, launching herself toward Rayburn and his men. They caught her quite easily, two of the larger men, and dragged her over to where my Daddy was lying dead. They threw her down onto the ground beside her husband and one held her down while the other one knelt between her legs, lifting her skirts as he tore at the fastenings of his britches. I screamed helplessly for a moment and then rose to my feet to return to the house, fury propelling me as I fetched my daddy's shotgun from above the door. I grabbed the box of shells that rested on a shelf below the shotgun and carrying both of them I marched back outside, still numb with shock, but also driven by a need to shed the blood from these men. I knew that it wasn't my place to be exacting vengeance upon these bastards, but reasoned to myself that I would make my peace with God after they were all dead._

_The two with my Momma were intent on their debasement of her, and didn't notice me, neither did the other three who were unfastening their britches, eagerly waiting their turn. I could hear them making their plans to 'plow my Momma' and then to save me for later on that night, 'a dessert of virgin pussy that would be better than anything they'd had in recent times'. _

_Rayburn was the only one who took notice of me, sitting atop his gigantic roan stallion, surveying the sight of his men dishonoring my mother as though he were almost bored. He saw me, saw the shotgun in my hands and the determination in my eyes as I headed towards his men, but he didn't say anything, gave them no warning, and actually seemed to be excited by the prospect of me murdering his men. It occurred to me then that he despised them just as much as they did him, and that he couldn't care less what became of them._

_Daddy kept the double barrel loaded at all times, knowing that in a time of emergency a weapon was useless if you had to take the time to load it, and I aimed for the two men in the back of the line. They had dropped their own weapons back next to their horses, the fools, and I took aim, years of practice under my Daddy's watchful eye paying off as I added the blast of gunfire to the screams of my mother, dropping the two men dead as a doornail, and reloading quickly. The man who was next in line seemed almost dumbfounded, turning to stare at me, and I dropped him quickly. The one who was rutting away at my Momma jumped to his feet and tried to run, but I hit him rather easily as well. _

_That left the man who'd held my momma down while the other raped her, and he had risen to his feet as well, doing his best to make it over to his own weapon laying on the ground by his horse, screaming for Rayburn to do something, but the captain just smiled at him, clearly enjoying the show that I was providing. I dropped the last man as efficiently as I had the rest, and the smell of blood and other foul odors that accompanied death were ripe in the air. _

_I dropped the shotgun and rushed over to my Momma. I would have taken care of Rayburn as well, I wanted to, but the beady eyed bastard had pulled his pistol as the last of his men fell dead and leveled his aim at my Momma, and I knew that he'd kill her if I tried to fire upon him, and I wasn't willing to take that chance._

_Momma was terrified, mumbling incoherently and crying uncontrollably. I helped her sit up and smoothed her skirts down, murmuring that we were safe and that everything was going to be just fine. My innocence had been shattered that day, but enough of my heart had remained that I sought to soothe her, though my promises would prove to be false._

_I didn't hear Rayburn's approach until he was upon me, literally upon me. He dragged me away from Momma and tucked my body beneath his rather corpulent figure, his foul breath on my face as he drew my skirts roughly to my waist._

"_I didn't want to share you with them boys anyway, girlie," he said, one hand pinning my wrists to the ground while he unfastened his trousers with the other hand. "I been dreamin' 'bout that little honey pot of yours for some time now, and I'd be damned if'n I was gonna share you with them. You sure saved me a lot of trouble by shootin' them yourself, so thanks for that, child."_

_I gagged as I felt his manhood brush against the inner flesh of my thigh and he chuckled. "You'll get used to me soon enough girlie, and then you'll be beggin' for me to screw you every day."_

_I braced myself for the pain, the ignominy of being used against my will, when he suddenly dropped down unconscious upon my body, and the next thing I knew my Momma was dragging him off of the top of me, dropping the club that she'd fetched from beside the well to knock Rayburn up the side of his head. We ran to the house to gather a few meager belongings, some food and what money could be found and then we ran for the barn, fetching the horses so that we could escape. I should have went ahead and killed Rayburn when I had the opportunity, but the longer we lingered, the better the chance that we would be caught, so we started on our trek through the woods near our home, which would provide us some shelter as we headed north._

_Momma's face was drawn and grim, her eyes a dead representation of what they'd been, and I knew that it was bothering her something awful to leave Daddy lying there dead, but there was nothing else that could be done. Finally she reached over and patted my arm; a ghost of what had been her smile curving her lips. "Thank you for that, Claire honey. Thank you for being so brave."_

"Did you enjoy that little trip down memory lane, girlie?"

His hateful voice brought me back to the present, making me realize that I must have been mumbling while I awoke, clueing him in as to what I was thinking about, what I was remembering.

"That was actually a horrible traipse through Hell," I answered, the old anger filling me once more as I stared at the face of this demon from my past. It was a thinner face, without the graying blonde beard that had covered his jaw, but it was him in the flesh alright, Winston Rayburn, the devastator and destroyer of my family.

"Oh, come on now," he said in a voice that was a sick mimicry of humor. "I wouldn't say that it was that bad girlie, aside from the splitting headache that I awoke with and the fact that I was something of a pariah after that."

I laughed humorlessly and shook my head as though in disbelief. "If I were you I'd better acquaint myself with the concept of Hell, Mr. Rayburn," I hissed, raising my eyes to glare at him, erasing the smirk from his face quite effectively. "I suspect that you will soon be occupying your own special room within its bowels rather soon, and you wouldn't want the atmosphere to come as a complete surprise to you, now would you?"

He drew back his hand and punched me, adding to my collection of bruises and abrasions and hissed at me to shut my damned mouth. The truth was always painful to people of his caliber, so it was no wonder that he wanted me to quiet myself. He placed his hands against my shoulders and pushed me down on the ground, yanking my skirts up as he opened his trousers.

"Your momma ain't here to stop me this time," he said. "What ever happened to that crazy bitch anyway?"

I refused to answer him, refused to give him the pleasure of knowing that in spite of the fact that we'd made it to freedom unscathed, in spite of the fact that the war had ended, she'd been unable to accept what had happened to my father, nor what had been done to her and had overdosed on laudanum, leaving me behind as an orphan to fend for myself.

"Well, it don't matter," he whispered, leaning down to run his tongue against my lips. I was quick, refusing to be slowed down by disgust and bit him before he could retreat, causing him to howl with pain and he drew back his hand to strike me once more. "I was gonna be easy on you this first time, girlie, but not no more. I reckon that freakish husband of yours ain't stretched you out very much, so this might hurt just a little. Feel free to cry all you want to...I like to hear a woman sob. Sounds like sweet music to my ears."

Pandemonic-Filled with wild uproar and chaos.

Tarrant's POV

He was crouched between my mate's legs; her face was bruised, battered and bleeding. Mallymkun had fought her way free of the burlap bag that he'd imprisoned her in and had nearly killed herself in her haste to fetch me. It was fortunate that I'd clothed myself before laying down for my rest following the intimacy that had occurred between me and my darling, for it would have been awkward to fly to my beloved's rescue brazenly naked, but I would have done so if it had been necessary.

I had taken the time to grab one item before I left our room, my faithful claymore which had aided me in battle against the Knave of Hearts and I caressed its handle almost lovingly, wondering where I should stick the blade first on this bloated pig's body.

First I grabbed hold of his ankles and dragged him off of my darling. The look on his face was priceless, and I took full advantage of the shock and the fear that was coursing through him, taking the time to glance at his bared genitalia and laugh. "That's a rather puny and pathetic display," I commented, causing a flare of anger to course through his eyes. "You should be careful about letting that wee bit of flesh out of your trousers, laddie. Were a bird to happen upon you it might think that it had found a nice, juicy worm to feast upon."

He cursed me and tried to rise to his feet, but I stopped him with a foot against his throat. "Calm yourself now," I whispered, increasing the pressure on his gullet until he started to wheeze. "You'll get your opportunity to face me in a moment. I just wanted to have a chance to look at you before I dispatched you from this life."

I released him and he rose to his feet unsteadily, fastening his trousers and laughing while he wheezed for breath. "You're just gonna kill a defenseless man in cold blood?" he gasped, steadying himself on his feet. "Where's the honor in that?"

My rage, which I had managed to hold at bay until that moment filled me then, fury and disbelief that he would have the audacity to lecture me on what was honorable. "You would dare to speak to me on the honor of my actions?" I asked, moving my sword from one hand to the other while I paced the floor around him. Claire had risen to a sitting position next to the wall of the corridor, and that was the only hesitation that I had, the necessity of dealing with this monster in her presence.

"You, the bastard who was in the act of forcing himself on my wife, have the unmitigated temerity to question my honor...to doubt my principle...to have reservations about my nobility?"

He stared at me, almost as though he were transfixed by me, and I walked over to the wall, where there was a lance of the Queen's guard hanging and took it down, tossing it to him. "There now," I said, smiling as I removed my hat and handed it to Claire to keep for me. "You are no longer an unarmed man. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

I could see that he was seriously considering the thought of fleeing, but then his pride took over. Not the sort of pride that a good man has in himself and his loved ones, no this was the hubris of a man who'd never been made to pay for his actions.

"What the hell," he rasped, stepping towards me with the point of the lance leading the way. "I never liked this damn place anyway and daily cursed the day that I tumbled down that hole. It'll soon be all over with, this sanctimonious bullshit and your beloved Queen anyway, so if it makes you feel like more of a man to take me on, let's have at it."

I would have explained to him that my need to take his life had nothing whatsoever to do with making me feel like a man, but to be perfectly honest, I didn't know how to speak his language, nor did I have any desire to attempt to learn. I felt soiled just standing in his presence, and I wanted to get it over with as quickly as was possible.

"Make your move whenever you are ready," I answered, moving into a defensive stance. "Underland will be happy to be freed from your toxic presence, I will be overjoyed about your death, and my sweet beloved will more than likely be downright enraptured to have you gone. As for the impending battle, know this before you draw your final breath, victory will be ours once more, and we have nothing to fear whatsoever."

He lowered his head, looking even more bovine than usual. He gave me a good picture of his intentions in that moment, and it would appear that it was to be a straight forward, overly confident charge, and I stood ready for him, thinking that it was a kindness on his part, more than likely the first one ever for him, to make things so easy for me.

Sure enough he charged me, the deadly tip of the lance held out before him, and it didn't take much effort on my part to sideswipe his attack, using the side of my sword to push the lance away, throwing him a little off balance, and in that moment a look of shocked realization crossed his face as I swung my claymore upward, removing his head from his body. He dropped like a stone to the ground, landing fairly close to his decapitated head, which funnily enough was pointed in a way that allowed him to glance back at his corpse, still twitching here and there as the nerves in his body danced about.

I was a little frightened to turn around, wondering what Claire could possibly think of me now that she had seen the warrior in me released, but there was no way possible that I could avoid her, and so I turned slowly, bracing myself for what I would see in her eyes.

She was rising unsteadily to her feet and stumbled towards me as the door to the corridor burst open, admitting Her Majesty and several of her soldiers, led by a much frazzled Mallymkun. Claire paid them no mind however, she seemed only to have eyes for me at that moment, and I rushed forward to grab her before she fell, scooping her up into my arms, dropping my sword onto the floor without a second thought.

She rested her hand against the side of my face, lovingly caressing me, and I restrained the burst of anger that longed to well inside of me when I looked at the bruises that were forming on her beautiful face. She leaned forward and brushed her lips all around and over my face and then snuggled closer against me, warming my heart in the most pleasant way.

"It seems that I found my valiant knight after all," she murmured. "Maybe it wasn't so foolish of me, to believe in fairy tales after all, was it?"


	17. Words That Start With The Letter Q

Chapter Seventeen

Words That Start With the Letter Q

Quandary-A state of uncertainty or indecision as to what to do in a difficult situation.

Tarrant's POV

I endeavored to keep my steps quiet as I entered our bedchamber, not wanting to chance startling my Éclair out of a peaceful slumber. She had complained a great deal about taking the medicinal powders provided by Her Majesty's Healers, but I convinced her to do so by reminding her that her body wouldn't heal properly if she denied it the sleep that it so desperately needed.

Three days had passed since that awful moment in the long abandoned corridor, three very long days since I had last been intimate with my mate, but her bruising and the general trauma of her ordeal had helped to keep my passions at bay. I had spent each day in meetings with Her Highness and the council, and it had come as a horrible shock to the Queen that Lady St. Suvier, who she had regarded as one of her closest allies, despite the woman's penchant for gossip and snooty behavior, had been acquainted, and, it would appear, had been in league with the bastard that I had beheaded in defense of my sweet beloved.

I was exhausted, weary to the point that I had dozed off twice in the tub and had damn near drowned the second time. I got the message through to my brain that it was time to sleep, that my body needed healing just as Claire's did, but then I looked at my darling, so alluring to me even in her sleep, and my manhood recruited my brain's attention, and insisted that I wouldn't be allowed to sleep until I had attempted to engage my beloved in some much needed physical intimacy.

Dare I even try to seduce her? What kind of protector was I, to be entertaining the notion of luring her into a sensual embrace, considering the injuries, both physical and mental that she'd suffered at the hands of that vile monster from her past? It would be best for her for me to leave her be, to only take her into my arms in a comforting cuddle, and to remind myself that I had survived many years without the carnal knowledge of a woman, so there was no reason why I couldn't abstain from my lustful needs until she was healed.

Of course, there were no women who could even come close to my sweet Éclair, and I stifled a moan that arose from my need when I lifted the covers to slide into bed and saw that her gown had risen up a good distance on her thighs, thighs that were slightly parted, almost, but not quite, showing the shadowy cleft betwixt her thighs. My mouth went dry as I stared at that secret spot, imagining what was hidden by the thin lawn of her nightgown, and I knew at that moment that there was something that I wanted, no, that I needed to do, wanted to do with every fiber of my being.

I had experienced the warm dampness of her silken chamber wrapped 'round my manhood, and that was a feeling that I'd never tire of, but I had never had the opportunity to sample her there with my mouth, to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled, and I knew that I wouldn't be satisfied until I knew for sure. I pulled the covers down off of her completely, wincing when she shivered, sure that she would awaken, but she didn't. I climbed onto the bed, tossing aside the towel that had shielded my nudity on the journey back to our room. It was definitely scandalous for me to be walking through any part of the palace with only a small piece of terrycloth shielding any passersby from the sight of my dangly bits, but I seriously doubted that I'd find much of an audience this late at night.

I moved to slip my hands under the raised hem of her nightie when she moaned suddenly, causing me to jump and rush to stifle the girlish squeal of surprise that rose from my throat. I really needed to work on my sounds of surprise, thinking how pathetic it was that I sounded more like a woman than my mate did at times. I traced my fingertips along the softness of her inner thighs, knowing that I wasn't far from my destination, and also knowing that I would find her bare beneath her nightgown, because she knew that I took it as an insult if she were to come to bed with any underclothes on.

She moaned again, and I stilled my movements, watching her face very closely, trying to discern the tenor of her thoughts as she slept, and that's when I realized that the sound wasn't one of pain, nor of fear, but instead was a noise reminiscent of those that she made when I was moving within her, when she was teetering on the precipice of her release, and I knew that she must have been caught up in an erotic dream of some sort. For one foolishly jealous moment I worried that perhaps it wasn't I who was enticing her in dreamland, but those concerns disappeared when she whispered my name in the same way that she whispered it as she twined her legs around my waist and ran her fingers through my hair, her murmurs turning to whimpers as I plunged within her again and again.

I couldn't stand it any longer, watching and listening as she grew more aroused, with that sweet musky smell that emanated from her each time that we were together growing copious in the air around our bed. I could feel myself growing lightheaded and an urgent need filled me, a need to abate my curiosity, and I moved to where I was laying on the bed on my tummy and kept moving upward, spreading her legs with a gentle hand on each thigh, not stopping until my head was between her legs, my face only inches away from the source of her femininity.

How was it possible that though I had always noticed her scent and how pleasant it was to me, I had resisted the urge to savor it fully until this moment? It had always been more of a thought in the back of my mind, an afterthought really, as opposed to the only thought. I moved my nose even closer to her, desperate now to fill my olfactory chambers with her bouquet, and after I had drawn the aroma deep into my nose I exhaled slowly, and the rush of air must have felt good to her, because she gasped aloud, the sound filled with her own longing, and the hint of muskiness grew more intense in the room.

I had become a firm believer in the principle that stated that all intimate encounters with one's mate should begin with a kiss, and I turned my head to the silky soft skin of her inner thigh and pressed my lips very gently to her flesh. Once I'd kissed that thigh, I then turned and kissed the other, and felt satisfied that I could proceed to the more decadent business at hand.

I raised her nightgown to her waist, taking in the sight before me with very appreciative eyes. She was lying in a way that parted her to my view, and I could see that the delicate pink was deepening to a more seductive shade, the flesh growing moist and swollen, just as it always did when she was aroused. I ran my fingertip along the glistening dew and collected it, bringing the digit to my lips and placing it between them, sampling the essence of my mate for the first time. The taste of her danced across my tongue, raising passions in me that were almost frightening, and a voice inside of me demanded more, insisted that I should taste her thoroughly.

I gingerly parted her petals with my fingertips, and hesitantly ran the tip of my tongue up the fissure that I had exposed, and the whimper that escaped her at that moment very nearly made me lose all control of myself, nearly convinced me to move up on her body and have her completely, but I grabbed hold of myself just in time, reminding myself that I had only just begun to explore this new sensation, and that I should be patient, and stay on course.

It was then that I noticed a small bit of flesh located at the apex of her cleft, a hooded shaft of skin, and I wondered what that was used for, what function did it serve for the female of my species? I also wondered if it had a lovely taste as well, and I flicked the tip of my tongue against it, very gently, and the response from my mate was immediate, impassioned and instantaneous.

She let loose a cry that reverberated through our room, bouncing off of the walls, and no doubt making itself known through a good portion of the palace. She raised her head up off of her pillow, and started when she saw that my head was resting between her legs, and that wonderful sensation that she'd just felt had been the tip of my tongue tasting the most intimate of her flesh.

"What is it that you think that you are doing Tarrant?" she gasped, her cheeks flushing prettily, and it wasn't only a blush of embarrassment, but also one of arousal. "I don't think that you're allowed to do that sort of thing."

"Oh, that's a bunch of pin feathers and poppycock!" I responded cheekily. "You're my mate, Claire darling. I just discovered that I hadn't explored all of the intimate possibilities that are available to me, and decided that I would indulge my curiosity and investigate you thoroughly. How can I do so properly if I am ignorant of your taste, my dear?"

Her cheeks grew even rosier, a look that I positively adored on her, and she attempted to close her thighs, to deny me any further access, and I could see that I was going to have to romance her just a little, otherwise she was going to hinder me in my attempt to fully acquaint myself with her sweetness.

"Come now, darling," I whispered, kissing her softly upon each thigh, lapping the warm flesh with my tongue, nipping it very gently with my teeth. "Be a nice girl and let me have a little taste of you." I could feel that she was beginning to falter just a little, and it was devious of me, but I took full advantage of that fact and laid on the charm even heavier.

"Please, my love," I asked, leaning forward to press a kiss against her cleft, and I would have sworn that her breathing ceased for just a heartbeat in that moment. "Please let me sample you my lovely...hmm...just one little taste, my sweet Éclair?"

She took a deep breath and shyly parted her thighs, looking as though she expected lightening to strike her at any moment, and I bit down on my lip to stop myself from giggling, knowing very well that she would take that badly, and would imagine that I was laughing at her in a way meant to make fun, and that would shatter the sensual spell that had her held in enchantment for me.

I parted her gently once more with my fingertips, and ran the tip of my tongue along her fissure, ending with a flick of my tongue against that little bit of flesh, and Claire braced her feet flat against the mattress and stifled a strangled moan against the back of her hand, and that was when I had an epiphany. That little bit of flesh must be that magical spot on her femininity, the one that was capable of bringing her so much pleasure, and I smiled wickedly, rather proud of myself for making that monumental discovery.

I parted her further, offering myself better access to her sweet spot and lowered my lips directly onto the button of flesh, bringing it up between my lips and massaging them against it. She cried out again, some of the sound escaping the confines of her hand, and I enjoyed that very much, but then realized that I still hadn't actually tasted her chamber, the very crux of her sweetness, and I moved my mouth away from her button, wincing as she whimpered sadly, and found her threshold with my tongue, encircling it before delving into her heat, lapping at the dew that had flowed forth to dampen her, enraptured by the molten sheath that up until now I had only felt clamp upon my fingers and my manhood, not that I was complaining, but oh, how wonderful she felt to me, and how glorious to be able to kiss her so deeply.

I moved my tongue in and out of her heat, my fingertip massaging her little flap of flesh while I simulated the loving between us with the inward thrust and retreat of my tongue, and soon I felt her tensing, her body quickening beneath me, and I knew that her moment was near at hand, that her release was imminent, and I withdrew my tongue from inside of her and replaced my fingertip with the tip of my tongue on her sweet spot, licking and suckling at the flesh until she dissolved, her cries of releases nearly deafening as she quivered again and again, delving her hands into my hair and clasping me tight against her softness, her thighs constricting around me, and for one panicked moment I worried that she might smother me.

I moved my mouth away from her as she quieted, and was startled and frightened to see that she was crying, that was until I also saw that she was smiling, very happily beaming, as a matter of fact. My own need had been building and building within me, and I knew that I had to have her, and I moved upwards until I was cradled between her thighs, my hardened flesh pressing insistently against the saturated heat that was emanating from her, and I moved myself into place, entering her more roughly than I normally would, but she didn't seem to find any pain in my movements.

She lifted her legs, twining them around my waist and thrust herself upwards against me. "I want to feel it again, Tarrant," she murmured, running her hands down my back to tease the flesh of my buttocks with her fingernails. "I want that inside of me again, that special heartbeat...pretty please, Tarrant?"

I knew precisely what it was that she was referring to, that pulsing that occurred when release was found, the spasms that coursed all throughout your body, and I could feel that my own time was near as well, and I hoped that I could give her that satisfaction at least once more before I lost control of myself.

I reached my hands beneath her, cupping her derriere firmly, and pushed her upwards to fully receive each of my thrusts, and it wasn't long before her breathing had sped up, and she tightened her legs around my waist, broken moans and breathless sobs escaping between her lips, and I kissed her, remembering that I had failed to do so before taking her, an oversight that I was determined to correct before we achieved our zenith, and the thrusts of my tongue joined in a rhythm with the lunging of my hips, the driving of my flesh into her molten sheath, and then I felt it, the trembling and the tightening, and she arched up against me, tearing her mouth away from mine as she cried out with her climax, calling my name again and again while her flesh clamped around me.

I wasn't long in joining her, and it still came as a shock to me, the intensity of my release with her, the fact that I could be moved to shout out with my culmination, something I'd never felt moved to do before, when I was the sole provider of relief from my lustful arousals. Of course, I had never experienced the intense pleasure of the act when I was alone either, and had never known that there was an added joy to the whole experience when the woman who you loved more than life itself had found her own powerful climax as a result of your attentions...that was an indescribable pleasure all of its own.

I collapsed beside her on the bed and drew her up into my arms to cuddle, as I always did, and we lay there together, content and happy, and she ran her hand over my chest, tickling me.

"I spoke with Bielle earlier today, and she told me something very interesting," she said, cuddling closer to me and leaning forward to kiss my chest.

"Oh, what did she tell you?" I asked drowsily, floating nearer and nearer to beddy-bye land.

"We were talking about her marriage and her family, and she explained to me how a female finds herself in the family way. She was fairly certain that it was a similar practice with both humans and canines."

I couldn't even imagine how that sort of thing happened. It had never occurred to me to even consider asking anyone, and I was curious to hear the explanation, and opened my eyes to look at my mate. She was smiling at me, very happily, with just a touch of smugness, and I wondered briefly if I should be happy as well, or maybe just a tad bit apprehensive.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," I prodded, wanting to be as knowledgeable as her in all things, lest I feel ignorant, and as though I didn't deserve her. "What did she say?"

"What we just did with one another, she said that some humans refer to it as "making love", but that she and Bayard call it "whoopee". She said that what comes out of a man's...well, you know...at your moment goes up inside of the female and can make a baby grow inside of her. She also said that it doesn't happen every time, only when a woman's womb is ready for the baby to grow. Isn't that amazing?"

It was amazing, and it was scary as well. What sort of father would I be? I thought that I was doing pretty well as a mate, but how would I do with offspring? I could tell that Claire was excited about the notion of babies, and I was excited as well, but at that moment the worry was a little stronger emotion that the anticipation. As usual, my darling seemed to be blessed with the ability to read my mind and she put a hand to the side of my face, turning me so that I was looking at her.

"I love you very much Tarrant, and our children will love you just as deeply as their mother does. I know in my heart that you will be the best of fathers, and I don't want you to worry about what the future holds. Let's just sit back and accept our blessings as they come, and not worry about silly things like whether or not we deserve them, nor what we're going to do with them when they arrive, okay sweetheart?"

She was right, of course, and it made me feel a lot better to hear her say that she thought that I'd be a good father. We cuddled together, giving into the need to sleep, when a last minute thought caused me to nudge her, drawing her away from the edge of slumber.

"I understood most everything that you said just fine, my sweet," I whispered, hoping that she wouldn't think me a fool. "But what exactly is a womb?"

A/N: Basically just a gratuitous sex chapter, I know, but sometimes I enjoy writing smut without much substance, you know what I mean? I also apologize to anyone who may have found it odd and/or unnatural that a woman would receive sex education from a canine...but hey, it's Underland, and therefore what is weird to us would be normal to them.


	18. Words That Start With The Letter R

Chapter Eighteen

Words That Start With the Letter R

Ridicule-Actions that show disrespect for someone or something by deeds and/or words of contempt and mockery.

Claire's POV

The impossibilities of the mission at hand seemed more overwhelming with each day that passed, and I had to wonder if somehow the Oraculum had been mistaken in its choice of champion for Underland. Of course, it wasn't mistaken when it chose my Tarrant for the second champion, because there was no braver soul to be found, but I couldn't truly say the same for his wife, and I was the one that they were all counting on.

I had ensconced myself in Marmoreal's makeshift war room, studying and restudying maps and reconnaissance reports, trying my best to appear that I had an idea of what it was that I was doing, but the truth was that I couldn't make heads or tails of most of the documents laid out before me, and I was painfully aware of just how woefully unprepared I was for the impending battle.

I would have liked to have had Tarrant by my side, but he was busy scouting the perimeter with Bayard, and more than likely wouldn't return until dinnertime. The time was drawing near for our afternoon repast, and I wondered if anyone would be offended if I took a small break to grab a cup of tea and one of Thackery's scones with clotted cream and raspberry preserves. The more I thought on it, the hungrier I became, and I decided that I would make time for a snack, whether anyone liked it or not. Honestly, it wasn't as though I were a child, was I?

I was headed for the door when suddenly it opened, and considering the fact that I was still jumpy following the ordeal with Rayburn five days before I thought I handled myself admirably well by just jumping straight up into the air and squealing. Of course, the poor man who was making his entrance looked as though I had scared him out of a good five years of his life, bless his heart.

"Saints above woman!" he shouted, one hand clutching his chest as though he were keeping his heart from jumping out...rather overdramatic, if you asked me. "Was it your intent to scare me half to death, or is jumping and screaming at a complete stranger the customary greeting from your homeland?"

He _was _a complete stranger to me, and very ill-mannered as well. I suppose that some would consider him handsome, if they found flowing blonde hair and sky-blue eyes appealing, but he was far too pretty for my tastes. He might have been in possession of a figure that was sculpted and taut in his fawn hued breeches, but there was nothing there that attracted me. His hair was too pale, not bright or curly enough for me. And his skin looked too bronzed; I had grown fond of pale flesh that seemed to glow in the moonlight that filled our bedchamber. And as for his clothes, while they were well made and tailored perfectly onto his form, they lacked flair, a certain panache that I had grown very fond of. And on top of all that, his hands didn't look as artistic nor as strong as my Tarrant's and I'd be willing to bet that his backside wasn't nearly as cute nor as pinch...oh dear me, why had I allowed my mind to wander like that? There was no doubt that my face was flushed given the racing of my pulse and the tremors in my thighs.

He was watching me with a mixture of befuddlement and amusement on his face, as though he were being entertained, but wasn't sure he quite understood why. I glared at him to cover my own embarrassment, and he seemed to find that humorous as well, for he started to grin at me, a smirk that fluff minded twits might have called charmingly roguish.

"You certainly have taken an immediate dislike to me, Miss," he said, in a manner that suggested that he found his words to be rather profound. The dandy was more than likely accustomed to women falling at his feet, enthralled and lovesick with just one glance at his angelic visage, but if he was expecting that sort of reaction from me, then he'd better be prepared for a long wait. "I would be willing to swear that the loathing that is shooting out at me from your eyes would be strong enough to have me buried beneath the ground, were looks truly capable of taking a man's life."

I had to admit that he did possess a good sense of humor, but it was something that I acknowledged grudgingly and something that I would never publicly recognize, least of all to him.

"Pish, posh," I answered, stepping forward to offer him my hand in greeting, remembering that a woman in my place in life was expected to be courteous and proper at all times, no matter whether I wanted to or not. "You simply startled me is all, good sir. I apologize for leaping in the air and shrieking like a madwoman, I tend to do that sort of thing when someone enters a room without making their presence known."

Apparently he was clever as well, because I noticed his brow rise at my backward apology. Maybe there was more to him than a pretty face after all. "Do forgive me as well, Miss," he answered cheekily. "I was working under the assumption that since I'd been told to wait in the solarium by Her Majesty that I should do so. I wasn't aware that there would be someone in residence who superseded Her Highness' authority."

Well, blast it all...Would there ever be a day in my life when I would avoid any and all social faux pas', or was I doomed to make a complete jackass out of myself every day? I had been so wrapped up in proving myself to be his superior in intellect and wit and hadn't even thought to find out who he was or who had sent him. He might well have been a bloody axe murderer or sex fiend and I'd been trading quips with him like some sort of simpleminded nincompoop.

"Are you still with me?" he asked, stepping forward to wave a hand back and forth in front of my face. "You look as though your mind has taken a holiday, though your body has stayed behind. Are you still here with me, Miss?"

I reminded myself that slapping him would be a very bad idea, a very stupid action on my part, no matter how much he may have deserved a good smack at that moment. "It's _Missus_ actually," I replied, completely ignoring his queries about the presence and state of my mind. "Missus Tarrant Hightopp, but you can call me Claire, if you'd like."

His eyes widened, and the smirk that had twisted his full lips fell away, quickly replaced by a look that bespoke of his embarrassment. I wondered what could have brought about the change; after all it wasn't as though he knew me.

"You're the Hatter's wife then?" he asked, his demeanor shifting to one that was completely gentlemanly and proper. "He said that I should wait with you until he and Her Majesty returned to the palace."

"Yes, I am Tarrant's wife," I responded, uncaring as to whether or not it was proper, the unabashed pride and love that was evident in my voice. What did I care whether or not it was considered ladylike that I showed just how deeply my love for my husband flowed through my heart and my soul? "I was just about to partake of a quick repast in the kitchen. Would you care to join me Mister...?"

"Oh, forgive me for not introducing myself properly," he said, bowing to me low at the waist, despite the fact that I wasn't anyone important or titled. "My name is Percival Willoughby, but you may call me Percy, if you wish, and I would be honored to accompany you for a brief collation."

He offered his arm to me as we left the room, and I made due with placing my hand on his elbow, not comfortable with the idea of actually placing my hand in the crook of his arm. That would seem too familiar to me, and while he did seem to be a polite young man, now that our bantering was out of the way, I had no desire to experience anything with him that could be described as forward or overly friendly.

I halted outside of the door and listened to Thackery muttering to himself about this or that. "Mr. Earwicket is a rather volatile fellow," I whispered to my companion, hoping that he would heed my words and not provoke my friend's hair-trigger temper. "It's best if you only speak to him if he's spoken to you first and don't stare at him, because that makes him very nervous. Also, you should be prepared to duck at all times, for the wellbeing of your skull will be constantly in danger."

The look on his face after I'd imparted that bit of advice to him was absolutely priceless. I could see that he was having serious doubts about the possible risky situation that he was about to walk into, but in the end either his hunger or his pride, or perhaps a combination of both made up his mind for him.

"Is he mad or simply unbalanced?" he asked, reaching down to grasp and open the door into Thackery's domain.

"Let's just say that he marches to the beat of his own drum and leave it at that," I answered, pushing the door open myself once I noticed that Percy was stalling.

Thackery peered at me from atop the mountain of potatoes that he had been peeling and a look of delight overtook his features, or rather he looked happy to see me until he noticed that I had brought along a companion, someone who was a stranger to him and his kitchen. He bounded over to where we were standing and circled us, sniffing and muttering something beneath his breath that I couldn't understand. I figured that it must have been very naughty if he didn't want his opinion overheard.

Finally he stopped, directly in front of me, and bowed down so low that his long ears swept across the floor. "A pleasure to see you, my lady, as always," he said, reaching forward to grasp my hand and place it against his furry cheek. He was laying on the charm pretty thickly with this visit, but I never truly knew what he was going to do when I came to see him, so I usually just kept my mind open for anything.

"It's wonderful to see you feeling so chipper, my dear Thackery," I answered, rubbing his cheek as I knew he wanted. "I was hoping that Percival and I could trespass on you and your kitchen for a small afternoon repast."

It was obvious by the look on his face that Mr. Earwicket would have liked to have offered Percy a nice plate of fried fodder, topped perhaps with lethal toadstools, and accompanied with a nice cup of tea laced with arsenic, but instead he hopped over to the counter where a plate lay piled high with his magnificent scones, hot from the oven, it would seem.

"A veritable feast awaits you, my lady," he said, hopping forward to fetch saucers and cups and two small dessert plates, on which he placed a scone, topped with his delicious clotted cream and homemade raspberry preserves, my absolute favorite. He prepared my cup of tea just as I liked it, with two cubes of sugar and a small slice of lemon and placed my snack in front of me. He delivered Percival's tea with a lot less grandeur than he had mine, placing the sugar, milk and lemon within his reach and unceremoniously placed the scone before him as well, all but dropping it onto his lap in the process.

Apparently Percy had been raised with proper manners, and waited for Thackery to provide him with some sort of utensil to eat the scone which was heavily laden with raspberry and cream, but then he saw that I was eating mine rather messily using only my fingers and he simply sighed, as though the entire situation was taxing to him and took up the spoon that had been provided with his tea, taking a small bite of flaky pastry and succulent cream and fruit, his eyes closing rapturously as the delectable flavors danced across his tongue...well at least I assumed that they did.

Mr. Earwicket was putting together a small basket of treats that included a scone, a small jar of honey and some sliced strawberries. He also placed a small crockery teapot topped with a flannel tea cozy in the basket. "A little treat for the Hatter," he said, placing the basket beside me on the table. "He's missed his tea the past couple of days."

"Thank you, Thackery," I answered, licking the remaining stickiness of cream and raspberry off of my fingertips. "That is very kind of you to think of Tarrant, and to allow Percy and me to trespass on your time, while providing us with a delicious repast."

I waited for Mr. Willoughby to offer his thanks as well, which would be the polite thing to do, but he remained silent, which was very rude of him. I turned in my chair to see that he was staring at me with something akin to both repulsion and disbelief on his face while he watched me lick the remnants of my snack from my fingers and I realized that it was I who was behaving rudely, and I snatched my fingers away from my mouth, blushing furiously.

Thackery had been bustling around his kitchen, ignoring Percival for the most part, but when he saw what was happening and discovered that I was embarrassed, and that it was Percy's reaction to my manners that had made me blush, he became angry...incensed, as a matter of fact.

"Perfectly normal thing for someone to do you know, to savor each and every bit of a treat. Maybe you are one who is gifted every day with each and every sweet or savory type of food that you might want, but not all are as blessed as you. Downright despicable it is, to cause a nice lady to feel as though she's done something wrong simply because she's normal. What should she do, take tiny bites and never truly enjoy her meal, and if she does, then she shouldn't show it, right? That is not the measure of a true lady Sir; it's merely an example of how females are stifled by the idiotic rules of their society!"

Apparently Percival was a quick study, because he managed to duck everything that was tossed at him, from a tea tray to the teapot itself. I could tell by the look on his face that he was ready to flee, but also that he was ready and willing to do battle. That was a good sign at least, that although he was frightened by Thackery's outburst and though he wanted to run, he stayed behind and stood up to Thackery.

"You don't hesitate to voice your opinion, do you Mr. Earwicket?" he asked, a slight trace of amusement in his voice. "Some would say that you are far too outspoken for someone of your station."

I gasped with shock and outrage, thinking that perhaps he was the one who needed a lesson in good manners. Didn't he realize how vulgar and common it was to point out the fact that the person that you are addressing is of a lower class than you are?

"There is no crime in having a mind of your own, Mr. Willoughby," Thackery answered, his voice far calmer than I would have expected it to be. "It's a valuable asset, available to all, despite their lack of title, but it seems to be a quality that is not well respected, nor widely used, by those who outrank beings such as myself."

I would have given my friend a standing ovation at that moment, had I not been in the position of having to accommodate Mr. Willoughby, and made due with grabbing hold of the picnic basket given to me that housed Tarrant's snack and turning to leave the room, wondering what calamitous embarrassment would fall upon the newest guest to the palace next.

Restitution-The return of something to its rightful owner.

Tarrant's POV

I must have lost every working part of my mind this afternoon which had led me to send Percival Willoughby, the two legged marvel with perfect hair, teeth, skin, eyes...perfect everything, it would seem, in to meet with my wife. It was as though I had no thought for self-preservation at all. It wasn't wise, nor was it beneficial for a man of limited physical and emotional attributes to offer up a model of masculine perfection for her to compare her husband with...her pasty bodied, helter-skelter orange haired, wonky eyed weirdo of a husband who tended to mumble to himself about nonsensical hodgepodge, and had a habit of crying frequently. I suppose that the best thing for me to do when I reached the palace would be to pack my belongings and try to leave with as much dignity as I could muster, but I had a meeting to conduct, so I would just have to endeavor to suffer through whatever heartrending emotional scene awaited me in the solarium.

I took a deep breath, collecting the final remnants of my courage and opened the door to our little war room, and was pleasantly surprised to find that she wasn't even talking to the Adonis, truth be told she may as well have been alone in the room for all the attention that she was bestowing upon him. But she did notice me when I entered, and the look of absolute happiness that lit up her face made me feel guilty for even entertaining the notion that she might be attracted to Mr. Willoughby.

She leapt up from her seat where she had been studying the Oraculum and ran to me, throwing herself into my arms and kissing me as though we were the only ones in the room. I'm sure that gave Percy a good deal to think about, to ponder the blatant lack of decorum on my wife's part, but for myself I loved it when she did things like that, declaring her affection publicly and proudly, and I certainly wasn't ashamed to demonstrate my own love in return. I kissed her back, a completely unrestrained embrace that quickly heated my blood. It was only when I felt my body responding in a way that would be obvious to everyone in the room that I sat her back down onto her feet, most reluctantly, I might add.

"Will Her Highness allow my husband a quick repast before our meeting commences?" she asked, reaching up to run her thumb over my lips. For one moment I thought that she was being truly naughty, and suggesting a banquet that included her and the decadent sugar located between her soft, warm thighs, but then I saw that she was pointing towards a picnic basket in the corner. Well, damn and blast...so much for that shiver that had ran up and down my spine carrying over into an allover quiver through my body, but there would be time for those satisfactions later on in the night.

"I don't think Her Majesty would begrudge me a quick snack before the meeting," I answered, my tummy rumbling as a completely different type of hunger took hold of me. "May your husband inquire what sort of treat you have acquired for him, my darling?"

She opened the basket with a flourish and the growl of my stomach took on an almost beastlike quality when I caught sight of one of Marchie's delicious scones, which were divine all on their own, but once I added the honey and the strawberries, would be like manna from paradise. And if I wasn't mistaken the blue crockery teapot with the flannel cozy held my most favorite blend of tea, a special blend of black teas with mint and lemon infused and the barest hint of honey, so that there really and truly wasn't any need for sugar, but I put it in anyway.

"A feast fit for a king, my love," I said, kissing her softly, and then was chased over to the table, and I didn't have any complaint with her waiting on me, it made me feel loved and special as a matter of fact. During this entire exchange Mr. Willoughby had watched us with undisguised curiosity, and I felt just a little self-satisfied to know that there was at least one woman who preferred me to him, and it was the only woman whose opinion counted to me, which was wonderful.

He was eyeballing the plate that she sat before me, and for one moment I worried that the prat was expecting me to share with him, and I could've told him that he had as much chance at getting any of my snack as a bandersnatch had in successfully mating with a dormouse, but was saved from that sort of unpleasantness by the arrival of the Queen and some of her court. I might have known that she'd get there just as I started, and instead of being able to relish my meal I was forced to snarf it down, barely tasting anything as it sped over my palate and down my throat.

She called the room to order and asked Mr. Willoughby to join her at the front of the room. She introduced him to everyone in attendance, and asked him to please tell everyone why he was there. I figured that it had to be a pretty good reason, given the immediate favor that Her Highness had shown him, but I hadn't been told who he was, or why he was there, and, to my knowledge even McTwisp hadn't been filled in on the details.

"Good afternoon to you my Lords and my Ladies, and most especially to Your Majesty," he said, bending this way and that as he greeted everyone as was proper. "My name is Percival Willoughby, and I have come with some information of the utmost importance regarding Margaret, Lady St. Suvier. There is a rebellion beyond what you'd believed possible building amongst her and some of the other gentry. I felt honor bound to bring this to your attention, Your Highness, because I have remained silent for far too long out of misguided loyalty. I am here to make amends for my duplicity on behalf of Lady St. Suvier, and most especially for myself."

I would imagine that most everyone felt just as shocked as I did at that moment. Her Majesty clearly had already been aware of why Mr. Willoughby was there, so his speech came as no surprise to her, but the rest of us were puzzling over the reason why he felt it was necessary to apologize for the traitorous Lady St. Suvier.

"Why should you feel responsible for the actions of another, young man?"

The question that had been on everyone's mind was voiced by Uilleam, the dodo, and everyone in the room threw him a look of thanks for giving a voice to the query that the rest of us hesitated to ask.

Percy hung his head, looking very ashamed, before raising his face to look all of us in the eyes. "Margaret is my aunt, and up until three days ago I was working the plot against Her Highness alongside of her. I came today to pledge myself to the merciful White Queen, and to promise that I will fight alongside all of those who stand for Marmoreal, even if it would mean my death."

I couldn't speak for everyone, but I was willing to bet that there were others who would stand with me when I decided to make this bounder bleed just a little to prove his point. I had little tolerance for those who would betray their home and their countrymen, and it was going to take more than an apology and some inside intelligence to change my mind about the dandy little git.


	19. Words That Start With The Letter S

Chapter Nineteen

Words That Start With the Letter S

Satiate-To satisfy hunger or another appetite completely.

Tarrant's POV

Nighttime had fallen, and I should have been either in the bedchamber that I shared with Claire, or in the bath, readying myself for the embrace of my beloved, but instead I was back in the solarium, feverishly plotting and planning, long after everyone else had retired for the night. The battle was going to be upon us in less than a month, and it may as well have been tomorrow at dawn considering the way the weight of both the responsibility and the fact that we were woefully unprepared was tormenting both my heart and my mind. I had finally backed away from the table where my maps and my reports were laying, taunting me with their knowledge that we were outmanned and overwhelmed, and sank down to the ground, cradling my aching head in my hands, and wondered how I could possibly burden anyone with this news, that winning the battle was a hopeless dream, a wish that wouldn't come true.

That was why I couldn't go to my mate, my sweet and loving wife...a new word that she taught me that I quite liked, just as I liked husband...no matter that she would want and would expect me to come to her in my time of need. I was the man, blast it all, and therefore it was my duty to ensure that she was safe and it would be wrong of me to encumber her with my worries, no matter how they tore at me; no matter how much I needed to feel her arms around me. Knowing my Claire, she would take on all the enemies of Underland for me, never complaining, no matter how heavy her responsibility and the knowledge of that made me love her even more, but I couldn't stand by and allow that to happen. I accepted the fact that we would fight side by side, and I welcomed that opportunity, but I wouldn't allow her to place herself in front of me to take a blow intended for me, whether it was a physical attack, or an emotional one.

Working under the assumption that Percy's information was on the up and up, Lady St. Suvier had turned into a bitter woman, enraged at Her Highness due to the circumstances of what had happened just before the previous battle in which the Jabberwocky had been slain and Iracebeth and Stayne banished, when her husband, Lord St. Suvier had lost his life. Apparently the Bloody Big Head has discovered that he was secretly supporting the White Queen, thus he had lost his head, and to Lady St. Suvier's way of thinking, Her Majesty should have prevented the execution. A rational mind would point out the fact that Her Highness wasn't even aware of what had happened, but Lady St. Suvier wasn't operating with the mind of a person who was even slightly judicious, and had sworn revenge on the White Queen. It was for that reason that she and some of her cronies helped Iracebeth and Stayne to escape their banishment, and they had amassed a group of followers who were staggering in their numbers.

I was wrapped up in my misery, positively wallowing in desolation, when the door to the solarium opened, and a beam of moonlight illuminated the lovely face of my beloved. She searched the room and spotted me, my hiding spot revealed by yet another treacherous glow of light from the moon. She didn't speak a word; she simply closed the door behind her and rushed over to where I was sitting.

It was obvious that she had gone to our chamber and readied herself for bed; her hair was unfettered, loosely falling in a cascade of dark silk down her back to her waist. Her face was freshly washed, free from the cosmetics that she wore to enhance her eyes and her mouth, gilding the lily, if you asked me. She had put a dressing gown on over her nightie, but her breasts still jiggled provocatively, freely, beneath the layers of fabric, and I hoped that no one had spied her while she was out and about looking for me.

She knelt down in front of me, bringing to mind images that were quite lascivious, and reached out to take my hand in her own. "Tarrant, darling," she said, bringing my hand up to her lips for a kiss. "I've been searching high and low for you, my love. Why aren't you getting ready for bed? The hour has grown quite late, you know?"

Of course I knew that, I wasn't a child nor was I an imbecile, damn it all. "It would be best for you to leave me be, Claire," I answered, pulling my hand free of her grasp. "I'm not fit company now, not for man nor beast, and most especially not for my wife."

She drew back from me, hurt filling her eyes, and for a moment I thought that she would do as I asked, but then she leaned near me once more, taking my face in her hands and leaning forward to press her lips against my mouth. My body cried out for me to respond, my heart begged me to accept the comfort that she was offering so freely, but my mind had been made up that I was angry, that I was inconsolable, and it wasn't willing to give up the sullen doldrums that easily.

"Blast it, Claire," I hissed, tearing my mouth away from her. "No' every problem in life kin be healed wi' a kiss. Mebbe ye dinna learn that as a bairn, but sometimes things happen that are shite, and it disna matter if you're kissed once or a hundred times, it's still shite that's waiting for ye when ye open yer eyes."

She recoiled from me as though I had struck her, and I suppose that I may as well have, or at the very least should have been yelling at her. I tried to keep my tongue in order at all times, yet there I was, acting out against her, my sweet Éclair. Things were desperate, hell they were downright desolate, but it wasn't any excuse for me to act the way that I was.

"You're absolutely right, Tarrant," she responded, her voice wobbly from the lump she must have felt in her throat, if the tears in her eyes were any indication. "There are a great many things that can't be healed with a kiss, some that can't be healed at all, no matter how hard you try to fix them. But no matter what state you find yourself in, no matter how bleak life seems to be, there are always some things that are worth fighting for, worth dying for, if needs be. Hope and faith, and most especially love are always worth the battle, no matter how hopeless it may seem, and I'll be damned if I'll apologize for wanting to reach out to you, my love, in your time of need, nor will I be chased away by your cantankerous behavior."

Why was it that she was so appealing in her anger? I was torn between the need to console her, to soothe her hurt feelings, and the desire to provoke her even further, just so I could see that raging fire lighting her eyes from within. And why was it that she was always armed with the words that would immediately defuse me, no matter what my state of mind at the moment? How was I ever going to win an argument if I couldn't remember why it was that I was angry to begin with?

The tears that had been brimming in her eyes were flowing down her cheeks and she was sniffling, her breath hitching, and I felt my own heart clench painfully while I watched the breaking of hers. She was such a tender creature, so easily wounded, and it nearly did me in to know that I was the one who had hurt her.

"Please don't cry, my darling girl," I murmured, reaching out to take hold of her and pull her onto my lap. "I'm so very sorry, my love."

She threw her arms around my neck and cuddled herself close to me. She twined her hands into my hair, her sniffles and gasps of breath dying down more and more with each stroke of her small fingers into my mass of curls. "I know that what happened today came as a huge blow to you, sweetheart," she whispered, lowering one hand from around my neck to toy with the buttons of my waistcoat. "This is the time that we have to bind ourselves completely to one another and remember what we're fighting for, because things are only going to get harder with each day that the battle draws nearer. We have to keep in mind that we're standing up for all the loyal subjects of Underland, and most especially we're in this for you and me, and the chance for us to be happy. I refuse to suffer the loss of what we've found together, and that is exactly what would happen if that bulbous headed cow is permitted to overthrow the rightful Queen."

I smiled at her fervor, my first genuine show of happiness for the evening. "My, but you are a ferocious woman when you are in an ireful mood, Mrs. Hightopp," I said admiringly, placing my hand over the small one on my chest. "Am I a fool to find that sort of righteous indignation very arousing, my love?"

Her eyelids dropped slightly, instantaneously giving her that seductive look that I usually only got to partake of in our bedroom, but I knew that we weren't going to make it to that room, not this time. I was a man possessed once more, but it wasn't anger that was firing my blood at that moment, it was the need of a man who longed to bury himself into his mate's healing sweetness, to feel her release mingle with his own, the most potent of curative powers that there were to someone suffering from heartache.

I opened her dressing gown with hands that were trembling, and my breath caught in my throat as she tore the garment from her body, showing little regard for whether or not she ripped the fabric, and her nightie followed the same path, leaving her gloriously naked on my lap.

"Touch me, Tarrant," she gasped, grabbing hold of my hands and filling my palms with the softness of her breasts. There were twin nubs of hardened flesh that pressed against me, and she whimpered, biting down on her lower lip, as I rubbed my calloused flesh over them, making them pucker even more. I lifted one mound in my hand and lowered my head to take the stiffened flesh into my mouth, teasing and tasting her while she arched herself against me. I repeated the action to the other breast, suckling her until she was panting, rubbing her saturated cleft against the hardness in my trousers, marking me with her scent.

She sat back on my lap and went to work on undressing me, taking much more care with my garments than she had with her own. First my coat, which she tossed to the side, followed by my waistcoat and my cravat, and lastly my shirt, and once I was bared to her all together she leaned forward once more and ran her mouth in long, wet kisses along my body, starting with my neck, then onto the masculine counterpart to her rosy tips, and if I'd thought that the feel of her tongue on that part of my body was the pinnacle of sensation that I'd experience this night, aside from actually plunging myself into the tight, silky wetness of her crux, then I was very mistaken.

She continued her trek south, scooting back off of my lap to lay on the marble floor, and my breathing, which had already been quite rapid in its pace, sped to a degree that was frantic and erratic as she unfastened my trousers and bared my rigid manhood. She looked up at me and smiled, a mixture of both pleasure and of wickedness, and then she leaned forward slowly, her warm breath a sensual caress upon my flesh and I was forced to stifle a shout of astonished delight, lest the entire palace hear me, as she took my flesh into her mouth. This was something new, something amazing, and something that I would have never even dared to imagine, let alone hope for.

She wrapped her hand around the root of my tumescent flesh and stroked her soft palm up and down, caressing me as she swirled her tongue over the cap, licking me gently, but firmly before taking me further into her mouth and running her tongue slowly up my shaft, savoring me as one would savor a yummy lolly. With each stroke of her hand and each flick of her tongue I found myself growing nearer and nearer to my culmination, and I knew that I would have to somehow muster the strength necessary to remove myself from her mouth, but it seemed an impossibility to me, it simply felt too magnificent to imagine myself doing so.

"Claire, my sweet," I gasped, grasping her head in an attempt to free her from the inevitable deluge that would be loosed from me when my moment arrived. "Darling, you have to move away from me."

I may as well have not spoken at all, for she continued on in the same fashion, if anything she quickened her movements rather than slowing them. My fingers burrowed into her hair, twining in the silken strands as I fought against the nearly overwhelming urge to move my hips, to thrust myself into her mouth as I felt the tremors begin inside of me, the buildup of feeling and then all was lost as I experienced a climax that I would swear left me blind for just a moment, an outpouring of pleasure that was so intense that I couldn't have stifled my cries even if my life had depended on my doing so. One spasm after another coursed through my body, and I spilled myself into her mouth, the overriding power of release overshadowing the shame that I was doing so, partnered with a feeling of pride and discovery.

She collected each drop of my essence with her tongue, and I watched in amazement as she swallowed it, as she swallowed _me_. I lay gasping from the force of my zenith, and my mind was racing just as quickly as my heart as I wondered how I had tasted to her, did she find it pleasant or repulsive? Would she be willing to do that again, and if so, how long would I have to wait? Did she receive any pleasure from the act, or was her body still aching with need?

It was the last though that had me bending over her, whispering for her to lie on her back, and I lay on my tummy between her legs, ignoring the cold of the floor beneath me, as I sought to fulfill her needs as thoroughly as she had satisfied mine...

"I'm telling you Thackery, there were odd noises coming from this room, sounds that suggested that someone was in pain, and when I came to investigate, there was a strange odor, one that was copious in the air."

Claire's eyes met mine beneath the table that we'd scrambled beneath when we had almost been caught by McTwisp. We thought that we could escape while he searched out someone to help him investigate the noises and odors, but we'd never imagined that he would get Marchie, of all the beings available in the palace...after all, they were mortal enemies, yet here they were.

Thackery crossed the room to stand beside the table that we were hiding under, and I would have sworn that I heard him chuckle as he did so. "Honestly Nivens," he answered, his voice filled with exasperation. "How were you ever able to steal the delectable Persephone away from me when one takes into consideration the fact that you are unable to deduce what the sounds that you heard and the scents that you smelled meant?"

Claire and I exchanged glances that were ripe with both confusion and embarrassment. Who the devil was this Persephone person and who would have ever thought that she was the reason that Marchie and McTwisp hated one another? I had known Earwicket for a good long while and never would have imagined it possible that the old codger had ever known the pleasurable intimacies that could be had with a woman, and frankly it made me more than a little nauseous to imagine it.

"She has nothing to do with this whatsoever, and you bloody well know it," McTwisp answered huffily, bounding towards the door to leave. "And I refuse to stay here and play these smutty games with you any longer."

"'Smutty games', you say?" Thackery giggled, racing forward to halt McTwisp's departure. "If the word 'smutty' has entered that irritatingly pristine mind of yours, then methinks that you know precisely what the sounds were that you heard, as well as the nature of the scent that filled your nostrils, eh Nivens?"

McTwisp forced his way around Marchie and started to leave the room, and had there been adequate light in the room I could have confirmed that it was indeed a crimson blush that was visible beneath the fur on his cheeks.

"It is despicable to think that someone would engage in vulgar behavior such as that in this room," the rabbit hissed, his long ears fairly shaking with indignation. "Someone will be made to answer for this debauchery, I can promise you that."

Claire turned to look at me, her gaze filled with fear, and I answered by rolling my eyes and shaking my head no, that nothing would happen to us. As far as I knew there were no laws against making love in the solarium of the Queen's palace. After all, it wasn't like we had done so when the room was full of people.

Marchie watched McTwisp leave, shaking his head ruefully. "Poor bastard," he murmured, stepping out into the corridor. "I swear I've never seen anyone in all my days who was in more dire need of a good shag."

I stifled a giggle, thinking that it was lucky for Thackery that he hadn't said that to the rabbit's face, and then froze, because I swore that he looked back at me and saw me, lying on my tummy under the table, peeking at him from under the cloth that covered its surface. "I thought that about you as well, Hatter. Glad to see that you got all of that frustrating pressure worked out of you, my friend."


	20. Words That Start With The Letter T

Chapter Twenty

Words That Start With the Letter T

Tenacious-Tending to stick firmly to any decision, plan, or opinion without changing or doubting it.

Claire's POV

"Relax, my love," Tarrant's voice was soft in my ear, his lips brushing against my flesh. His arms were strong and sure around my waist as he held me from behind, his hands resting over mine as I stood with the Vorpal Sword, the weight unfamiliar and foreign to me. "It is a typical and reasonable reaction to the feel of the blade in your hands to become anxious, but you must take firm control of your mind and of your heart. Keep your muscles supple and be sure to keep your breathing steady. Remember that if you allow your nerves to control the situation, you will not be able to perform rapidly, which places your life in mortal peril in battle."

I reminded myself that he was teaching me, and sometimes a person has to be scared, has to realize the depth of what it is that is waiting for them to truly be prepared. I knew that if I walked onto that battlefield as I was now I would definitely be in trouble. Tarrant would be fighting side by side with me, but the climax of the battle was my duty, my burden, to dispatch Iracebeth and Stayne from Underland once and for all. I took a deep breath and forced my body to relax. "Very good, darling," he whispered, which had an effect on my breathing, similar to that which trepidation had, but for an altogether different reason.

"Now then," he continued, tightening his arms around me while he rocked our bodies first back and forth and then from side to side. "Remember to keep your body balanced. This is essential so that you can assail and evade whilst avoiding being hit yourself. Always place your feet at a width equal to that of your shoulders, and when you move, make sure that you do so with your legs spread apart. Never hold your feet close to each other in a swordfight. Also hold your sword in a manner that will enable you to manage it with effortlessness."

I loosened my grip on the sword just a touch, and surprisingly it seemed to grow lighter and more manageable in my hands. I rocked on the balls of my feet, reverse and forward, and from side to side, my feet set wide apart.

"Be sure to keep your eye on your opponent, and wait for him to offer you the moment for your attack. Wait until he moves in for his own strike, and then you can counter his move, do this quickly. When you circumvent his movements, keep the blade close to your body. Don't stretch out your body when you thwart his attack, but always try to counteract his advancements."

Tarrant called out to Percy, who was leaning lazily against a column in the expansive ballroom watching as my husband taught me how to fight. I didn't need to be educated on taking life from another being, but this was an altogether different scenario. It would be born from self-defense, but I wouldn't have surprise on my side on that battlefield, as I did when I killed those Home Guard sons of bitches. Tarrant asked Percy to pick up a sword and practice with me. There was a smirk on his pretty face as he chose a sword, a basket hilted claymore, and approached me. "Note his overconfidence," Tarrant whispered in my ear, too quietly to be overheard by my opponent. "Be sure that you use that to your advantage, my dear."

"I can feel that you are balancing on the balls of your feet, which may feel right, but it's not," he said, and I placed my feet more firmly against the marble resting beneath me. "The more that the sole of your foot is firm against the ground, the steadier that you will be, and the steadier that you are, the stronger that your attack will be. Keep your balance by sliding your feet rather than raising them and then stepping. Remember not to lift your heel during your attacks, because doing so reduces your grounding, and makes you vulnerable, possibly allowing your opponent an opportunity to knock you over. Be sure to keep your posture erect, and move forward with your chest and your torso, which will keep you from losing your balance while you are swinging the sword, and will also help you to sidestep your opponent's blows with a simple twist of your body, rather than keeping your torso locked in place, which only allows you to avoid an attack in one direction."

I positioned myself as he'd instructed and looked up into the eyes of my adversary, eyes that were a lovely shade of blue, but which were also filled with an overabundance of superiority. He had already dismissed me, positive in the notion that he had me defeated, chalking up a victory before our swords had even greeted one another.

"Evaluate the situation," Tarrant whispered, and I could tell by the tenor of his voice that he'd noticed Percy's arrogance, just as I had. "A good warrior always endeavors to be in constant awareness of their surroundings, both their advantages and their disadvantages, and those of their opponent. Note whether he is brave or a coward, whether he is filled with hubris or with modesty, whether he is skilled or instead is a novice. Every being has a vulnerability of some sort, and you can be sure that they will search out yours just as surely as you look for theirs."

Well, that was pretty straightforward; after all, I already knew that Percy was ripe with overconfidence, an assuredness that hinted at hubris. I wouldn't say that he was coward, but I also wouldn't call him brave. I was certain that he was skilled, not a novice, but how efficient was he with a blade like the one that was in his hand, and what was it that he saw when he looked at me? A small woman, an insignificant threat to his muscle-bound masculinity, a pathetic excuse for an opponent that had no business even entertaining the notion that I could stand up to him, or did he see my inner strength, my devotion and my determination? I was more willing to wager on the former rather than the latter.

"Engage your adversary very carefully, Claire," Tarrant whispered. "If you are reckless in your strike, especially against an experienced combatant, he might allow you to charge him, only to impale your body upon the blade of his sword." We both shuddered when he spoke those words, and I heard him clear his throat with some difficulty. "By engaging him cautiously, you will be able to maintain both your control and your focus. You will also be allowed the best defense for yourself, which often involves a simple slide to the side, which will both save your life, and also provide you with the opportunity to deliver a fatal blow to the other combatant."

Percy stepped toward me and bowed, reaching out with the blade of his sword to caress his steel against my own. "There will not be any social niceties observed in battle, but there's no reason why we shouldn't keep this civil," Tarrant said, and I could imagine him glaring at Percy over the top of my head. Willoughby stepped away from me and fell into a fighting stance. It was now or never to show whether or not I had any skill or bravery where sword fighting was concerned, and I was very grateful for the protective vests that we wore, although neither of us had bothered with a protective covering for our faces. What a shame it would be if Percival were to receive a mar upon that handsome visage that so many ladies in the castle swooned over.

I tried to read him, to anticipate what his first move would be, but he gave no indication, and it was sheer dumb luck that I managed to block his first strike, barely meeting the blow in time to divert the razor-sharp tip of his blade away from my body. I heard Tarrant's breathing speed up as he moved with me, bending and dodging along with me, and I knew that it was anger, not exertion from the exercise that had him breathing harder.

"Remember to keep your defense strong, my love," he hissed in my ear, and had I not been aware of what had made him angry, I would have shrank away from him, away from the coldness of his tone. "If you miss one block, or one parry, it could be fatal for you, so be sure to safeguard yourself well." We straightened our bodies back into our fighting positions and Tarrant tightened his arms around me, as though he were trying to place himself more firmly between me and any harm that might have come my way. "Keep your sword in a position that runs from the base of your torso to the top of your head. This is a middle position and is appropriate for someone no matter their level of skill and will enable you to respond to an attack with a sufficient amount of speed, and will also provide you with many different directions for your own strikes."

We moved the sword until it was level with my bellybutton, and I waited for Percy to strike again, but he seemed as though he were content simply to dance with Tarrant and I, sweeping across the marble floor in a potentially deadly waltz of intimidation. "Very nice footwork, Claire," he said, grinning when Tarrant snarled with irritation behind me.

"Thank you very much _Mr._ Willoughby, I have an excellent teacher." I leaned back against my husband for a moment, seeking to calm him. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

He did seem to grow more composed, and I knew how much of a struggle this was for him. It had been easier to accept the Oraculum's predictions before we were married, but now that we'd joined as mates in every sense of the word it grew more and more difficult for him to deal with the knowledge that he'd have to stand at my side as opposed to placing himself in front of me, between me and the dangers that I'd be exposed to. He was terrified that his tutelage wouldn't provide me the essential knowledge necessary to keep myself alive, but I had every faith that I would be just fine. I had just found my niche in life, and I knew that I wouldn't be leaving it anytime soon.

"It is the caliber of the pupil that speaks for or against the instructor," he answered, leaning forward to nip my earlobe affectionately, and I would have sworn that I saw Percy blush. That was good, anything that pierced his armor was strength, an advantage for me, not to mention that I absolutely _loved _it when Tarrant did things like that, small acts of territorial affection that made my pulse hiccup and then race faster.

"Always have your weapon at the ready," he continued, moving easily back into his "teacher" voice, brisk and authoritative, with just the slightest affection softening his words somewhat.

"'As a general rule, your blade should be stretched a comfortable distance away from your form, and toward your adversary's throat, or perhaps his eye'." I responded, and was pleased with the look of discomfort that showed in Percy's eyes.

"Very well done, my sweet," Tarrant murmured, obvious in his own delight at making Willoughby squirm. "This maneuver is referred to as putting your opponent "on point". It serves as a barrier against your adversary, considering the fact that he'd have to go through the point of your blade to reach you, and for that reason can be a very menacing tactic, especially if you are facing off against someone with limited experience."

I could certainly see why that would be intimidating to someone; because I could well imagine what my own reaction would be if I were in Percy's position, with the point of a blade staring me down. "You should also keep a constant preparedness about you when you have your opponent in this position," Willoughby said, taking over the role of instructor, something that didn't sit well with Tarrant who hissed something about an "arse buggering wanker" beneath his breath. Percy didn't appear too rattled by my husband's temper and merely lifted an eyebrow in response. "If she doesn't pay attention," he said, quickly swiping my sword aside and placing me into the same spot he'd just escaped from, lightening quick in his efficiency of turning the table on me and changing position from the one who was threatened to the one who now held the upper hand. "Then they could have her checked and mated and her life would instantly be in dire peril."

Just because his words were true didn't make them any more palatable for Tarrant, neither did it help that Percy had the point of his blade aimed at my throat. "Back away from her," he snarled, and I could imagine his eyes glowing crimson as his rage took over his senses. "Retreat this instant or I swear to ye that I'll take yer bloody head off."

Willoughby still appeared unflustered and did as he was asked, or rather as he was ordered. I started to turn in Tarrant's arms, to provide him reassurance that all was well, but an irritated scoff from Percy stopped me from doing so.

"You have to stop babying him so much, Claire," he said, his voice filled with exasperation. "How are the two of you ever going to make it through a battle if he's constantly unnerved by the idea of you getting hurt, and you're endlessly placating him? The two of you won't make it five minutes at the rate that you're going."

Tarrant pushed me to the side, nearly causing me to lose both my footing and my grip on the Vorpal Sword. "Alright then Percy, ye great gob-shite, if it's a brawl yer wanting, I'll be happy to accommodate ye," he said, rushing towards Willoughby, nearly reaching him before I could grab hold of the back of his coat, doing my best to hold him back while he struggled and growled. "Let go of me right now, Claire love," he hissed, and I dropped down to the ground, landing painfully on my backside as he pulled out of my grip, walloping Percy at good one to the eye, the next blow catching him on his square jaw, and though he was younger and taller than Tarrant, Percival dropped like a rock to the ground, at which time my husband jumped him, straddling his body as he delivered one punch after another.

"What do you know about it anyway, you poncy git?" he rumbled, the look on his face one of absolute hatred as he laced his hands around Percy's throat. "What do you know about what I'm suffering through? Have you ever had to ponder what calamity was hanging over the head of the woman that you love? Have you, Percy, you condescending tosser?"

Willoughby's face was starting to turn blue and I charged at Tarrant, dropping the sword to the ground with a resounding clang and leapt onto his back, causing him to fall forward on Percy, landing so that they were resting nearly lips to lips, which would have been humorous, had the situation not been so deadly.

"Damn it all, Tarrant!" I yelled angrily, infuriated to have been placed in the situation that I had. "He's on our side, remember? Granted, he's one of Underland's biggest jackasses, but he's _our_ jackass, and therefore you really need to resist the urge to murder him, okay?"

It was difficult to discern whether my words were a comfort or an insult to Willoughby, or perhaps a combination of the two, but he didn't seem to be inclined to complain, seeing as how it was my words that removed both Tarrant's weight off of his chest and his hands from around Percy's neck. He jumped to his feet, his intentions to have some revenge evident in his face, but one look from me stopped him in his tracks.

"It's over with, Mr. Willoughby," I said, hardening my voice to show both he and Tarrant that I meant business. "I won't tell my husband to apologize to you right now; I want him to come to the realization that a request for forgiveness is necessary on his own, so that it will be sincere contrition, rather than a false regret that he offers you. It is true that Tarrant and I "baby" one another, but it is a horrible situation that we have been placed in, and it is more than a little scary to realize that the day of battle may very well be our last day together, so ease up just a bit, alright, Mr. Willoughby?"

He looked properly abashed, staring at the ground for a moment before nodding to me. "Please accept my apology for what I said," he croaked and returned to the spot where he'd been standing as we'd practiced.

"Of course I do," I answered, picking up my sword and returning to my spot, trailed by a humbled Tarrant.

"I'm sorry that I attacked you," Tarrant whispered, his words almost too low to be heard, but it was obvious that Percy had heard him, and acknowledged and accepted the apology with a small nod of his head. It was good to have that out of the way, not that the air was completely cleared, but enough was excused that we could continue with our training.

Percy and I both resumed our fighting stances, and Tarrant slid up against me, his touch even more possessive than before, not that I was bothered by his show of jealous territoriality. I could see a ring of bruises coming to life on Willoughby's throat and winced, knowing that it would bother Tarrant as he calmed; the evidence that he'd allowed his temper to get the best of him.

"You need to be sure to keep your elbows bent, and close to your body," Tarrant whispered, the anger receding from his voice, making it soft and soothing once more. "A beginning fighter has a tendency to stretch out their arms in an attempt to keep their opponent further away from them, but this hurts their ability to thrust and parry rapidly. Extend your sword towards your adversary, not your arms."

I had been guilty of that move myself, and I realized that it had been a kindness on Percy's part that he hadn't taken advantage of my ignorance. "Always remember to measure twice, and cut only once," Tarrant continued, bringing my attention back to the task at hand. "In most cases a sword fight will be decided with the first blow, and you want to be sure of your attack, for it is likely that if you miss your opponent with your first strike, they will take advantage of that, and will end the fight with the fatal blow being delivered to you."

I watched Percy closely and then advanced slowly, waiting until I was close, but not too close to strike, but he met my attack easily, his blade reaching out to my throat while I didn't even come close to touching him with mine. Red-faced and angry at myself I retreated, back to my husband, who admonished me for my hastiness and suggested that I pay closer attention to what he said, which embarrassed me even further.

"You must find and maintain a distance that is based on a balance of both your sword and your opponents," he told me, his fingertips tracing over the top of my hand, telling me that he was sorry for speaking so harshly to me. "When your sword is the shorter one, get in close and stay within his guard. If it is you that has the longer sword, keep your distance. If the length of your sword and his are equal or close to the same, stay where it will only take one large step forward to attack. The correct distance necessary will always be unique to the fighter, because one must take into account their height, length and style of sword, and the manner in which they fight."

I was becoming more than a little confused, my mind spinning from all the instruction that was being heaped upon me. "Remember to remain composed and assertive." Tarrant hadn't seemed to have taken notice of the fact that my calmness and my confidence were quickly abandoning me, leaving me agitated and insecure. "Your composure can decide the outcome of a fight as surely as your sword, and is a valuable stratagem. If you are anxious or upset, your opponent will take advantage of your emotions and will attempt to provoke you into making a fatal miscalculation. Levelheaded warriors make those who would stand against them wary, perhaps even going so far as to completely disconcert them. You might also want to try to appear violent, to use intimidation, or perhaps you might pretend to be frightened, in the hope of lulling the enemy into making a critical error of their own."

There would be no pretending on my part at that moment, I was well into the feelings of anxiety, my body filling with tension, and I could feel my lower lip trembling as my emotions threatened to break free, to turn me into a sniveling basket case in front of both my husband and a man who was virtually a stranger to me. Percy could see what was happening, given the fact that he was facing me, and I fully expected him to mock me, given all that had happened between us since we met. That was why it was such a surprise to me when I looked at him and saw kindness, and understanding in his eyes.

"What do you say that we break until tomorrow, eh, Hightopp?" he asked, stretching and feigning a yawn. I felt Tarrant stiffen behind me, and then heard him snort derisively, but then he must have noticed the way that Percy's eyes traveled from my face, back over the top of my head to him, and it dawned on him who it was that was in need of some rest and relaxation.

"That will be just fine, Willoughby," he answered, reaching forward to remove the sword from my hand, with a request that Percy put it back into the Queen's vault for him. "Once again, let me say that I am sorry for attacking you today. It was a childish reaction on my part."

"Ah, don't mention it," Percy answered, smiling sheepishly. "I goaded you into action, and know that you simply reacted as any man would when he and his ladylove had both been insulted."

He bowed to both of us and took his leave, both my sword and the one that he'd borrowed in his hand, and I felt all the remaining strength and resolve that I'd had leave my body and I all but collapsed into Tarrant's arms. He scooped me up, resting me close against his chest and started towards the door.

"Let's go to our chamber and get some sleep, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips gently against my cheek. "I don't know about you, but I'm quite knackered out. Must have been that thrashing that I gave to Percy, wouldn't you think?"

I couldn't help but giggle tiredly. In spite of the violent side that he'd shown earlier, he was gentle and kind toward me, and I knew that he'd never hurt me, and that he was a saint for not mentioning my weakness, my inability to continue that day. I would have kissed him all over when we reached our bedchamber, if I hadn't been so tired. I suppose that would have to wait until after I'd had my nap wouldn't it?


	21. Words That Start With The Letter U

Chapter Twenty-One

Words That Start With the Letter U

Unaccountable-Something that is impossible to explain or give a reason for.

Unabated-Still as forceful or intense as before.

Tarrant's POV

I was pulled from a comforting and deep slumber by the muffled sound of sobbing, a forlorn and heartrending noise that my love was so desperately trying to keep from me. I laid on my side for a moment, pondering the options that were available to me, and the only one that made any sense to me at all was to take her into my arms, to soothe her, to rectify the problem for her, whatever it was that had her crying into her pillow. For one moment I was terrified that I had done something, had said something that had broken her heart, which had wounded her grievously. Perhaps I pushed her too far, too fast in her training. We had been working for four days, every day I pressed her more, made her push on, even when she was tired. The battle was growing closer, Iracebeth and her minions growing nearer, and I felt an urge to hurry, a desire to have the blasted day over and done with, so that our lives could fall into a more comfortable and carefree pattern. But had I behaved like an ogre? Had I driven her to the point where she would hide her tears from me, perhaps out of fear of how I'd react?

I sat up in the bed, my eyes adjusting to the shadows in the room, and found her crouched on her side of the bed, beautifully naked, her legs drawn up against her chest, her pillow resting on her knees. I was not mistaken that she was muffling her sobs into the pillow, I could see now that she was actually screaming into its billowiness, a tortured shrieking that raised the hairs on the back of my neck and caused a shiver to travel down my spine. It was a shudder that had nothing to do whatsoever with the fact that she was nude, naught to do with the near constant hunger that I had for her. Nay, it was a quiver of fear, of apprehension, the niggling of dread that filled someone when the one that they loved was in the depths of pain like those that my wife was wallowing within at that moment.

She reached out with a finger, running its tip along something that was lying next to her on the bed, and I was startled to see that it was the Vorpal Sword, which had long ago been stored in its resting place in the Queen's armory. I knew that I should return it immediately, but how could I snatch it away from her at that moment, when she was obviously caught up in some sort of reverie with the weapon? The answer was quite simple...I couldn't and I wouldn't.

"How much do you know about the world that was my home, Tarrant?" she asked quietly, scaring at least six months out of my lifespan. I wasn't even aware that she had noticed me, so needless to say; it was just a tiny bit disconcerting when she spoke to me. "Has anyone ever described the world up top to you?"

The only being that I had met from her world, besides her and that bastard Rayburn, was Alice, and she hadn't ever imparted me with any knowledge regarding the place from whence she came. "No, my love," I answered, scooting a tiny bit closer to her on the bed. "I can't say that I truly know anything about your home."

"My old home, you mean," she countered, turning to smile at me through the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks. "There are many differences between this place and that which I called home until I was fourteen years old, and many of the actions of Iracebeth and the battle which is coming bring to mind a horrific time in my life, the time when the world that I had known became a distant memory for me."

"May I hold you?" I asked, noting the increase in the tears that were tumbling down her cheeks. She nodded her consent and I cuddled up behind her, drawing her back gently against my chest. "Now then," I whispered, placing a kiss upon her forehead. "Tell me all about it, my sweet."

"My daddy, Lucian Quinn, was a wonderful man, a loving and devoted husband to my mother, a caring and patient father to me, and one of the staunchest abolitionists that there ever was to be found. Do you know anything about abolitionists?"

I knew what the word abolition meant, but I wasn't sure who this group of people was that she was referring to, and I also didn't know what it was that they had tried to eradicate. "No, I can't say that I do," I answered.

"Plantation owners in the state of Virginia first brought people from Africa to work on their land, with no pay, in the year Sixteen Hundred and Nineteen. By the time that the American Revolutionary War between what is now the United States of America and England had taken place, most of the northern states in my country had abandoned the practice of keeping slaves, but the states in the south retained their slaves. Many debates took place, and some efforts were made, but slavery remained. Our nation was formed on the beliefs listed on papers, a list of rights for our citizens that is called our constitution. The southerners had the unmitigated temerity, not to mention the utter and complete stupidity to make the claim that their right to own slaves was covered by the tenth amendment to our constitution, but that would only have been possible if they completely disregarded the part that left no question that every human was made, was born, equal in the sight of God our Creator, and therefore the practice of slavery was an infringement of their personal rights. There were plenty who thought that slavery was wrong, but then there were those like my father who believed that to own slaves was a sin, a crime against God."

Well that made perfect sense, and rang very true with the unfairness and cruelty that Iracebeth had employed when she had rounded up whatever animal folk that she could and had forced them to serve her in the most demeaning way possible. "It sounds as though your father was a very good man," I said, wishing that I could have had a chance to meet the father of my mate, as well as her mother.

She turned to look at me, a small smile lifting her lips. "One of the two best that I've ever known," she replied, and it made my heart flutter happily to know that I was the other of whom she spoke. "His views were honorable and just, but were none too popular in Georgia, where we lived, which was part of the South."

"The American Civil War, also known as the War Between the States, broke out in April of the year Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-One when the southern states, which had seceded from the Union, and called themselves the Confederate States of America, attacked Fort Sumter in Virginia. I was eleven years old when that happened, and if I live to be a hundred I'll never forget the look on my Daddy's face when he heard the news of that attack. The entire war and the attitude of his neighbors was an embarrassment for him, 'a disgusting spectacle of the worst sort of human emotion', he'd always say. He took a lot of risks by not joining in the fight for the South, and the Home Guard, Rayburn's lot of bastards, watched him the way an owl eyes a field mouse, just waiting for a chance to catch him in what they would consider acts of sedition against the Confederacy. Daddy was already something of an outcast for marrying a half-breed 'savage' woman, my Momma Elizabeth, and he didn't make any secret of his disdain for those who supported both slavery and the war that was being waged with our brethren from the North."

She had gone back to stroking the blade that lay beside her on the bed, but she had calmed considerably, and almost seemed as though she were in a trance of some sort. "Daddy helped the slaves that ran away from the plantations where they were held escape North, to freedom and the hope of a better life, and as the end of the war drew nearer, and things became harder on the Confederates, he would help the soldiers who deserted their companies to escape as well, even though doing so was considered a treasonous act. Daddy always said that you had to stand up for what was right, as opposed to laying down for those who were doing wrong. I never found out who it was that turned my family in to the Home Guard, or whether they'd just been watching us close enough to witness what is was that Daddy was doing, but they came for him in June, when I was fourteen years old. Rayburn killed him, stabbed him with a sword, and then he watched as his men waited to take their turn raping my momma."

I thought of the day that I had lost my own family, the horror of being surrounded by their wails, by the stench of their deaths, but I couldn't begin to imagine how horrific it would be to watch the murder of one of your parents, and then to have to witness the degradation of the other. "Oh, Claire," I whispered, squeezing her tighter against my body. "I'm so sorry, my love."

She reached up and patted my hand, so odd that she was comforting my outrage amidst the heart wrenching pain that she was suffering from at that moment. "Thank you for killing that bastard for me. He had been overdue on that moment for six long years. I killed the others, those that defiled my momma, and those waiting for their turn as well. They had intended to despoil me that night, so really and truly it was self-defense, although I'll admit that a good amount of rage fueled my actions just as much as the need to save both me and my mother from them. So you see, it's not the idea of taking lives that makes me fear the coming battle, it's the idea of taking this blade in my hand, one that closely resembles the sword that was stained with my father's blood, to do so. What I wouldn't give to have Daddy's old double barrel shotgun right now."

I was intimate with the murderous rage that filled your body when an adversary who had harmed those that you loved was in view, the berserk fury that made your vision turn red and filled your mouth with the metallic tang of blood. I could relate with her, of how you took an animalistic pleasure in taking the life of one who'd wronged you and yours so grievously. It was more than likely an immoral act to feel that way, but at that moment, one doesn't think about the iniquity of their actions, nay, one is too filled with an overwhelming sense of pride to have been responsible for the at least partial righting of some of the wrongs which were perpetrated on them and those that they loved.

"What exactly is a shotgun, my dear?" I asked, feeling rather dense for having to inquire, but it was a term that I'd never heard before. I gathered that it must be a weapon of some sort, but beyond that I was completely ignorant.

She chuckled softly and patted my hand. "Forgive me, sweetheart," she said. "I forget at times that we come from different worlds. Where I come from we have weapons called guns, which have a metal tube through which bullets, pieces of lead, are fired by an explosive charge. A pistol is a small gun that can be held in one hand, a shotgun is a larger weapon, which has to be placed against your shoulder to be fired. If I had that available to me here, I would feel much more at ease, considering the fact that I started learning to handle one when I was ten years old."

That did sound like something that would be much more effective when facing off with one's enemies, but it also sounded almost nonsensical, the idea that someone would have such a powerful weapon at their disposal. "I'm not sure that we could obtain that sort of weaponry," I said slowly, a little unsure of what I should say. "I suppose that we could try to get one of these shotgun things for you, if you truly wanted us to."

"No, I'll do fine with this sword," she answered, standing up and wrapping the steel in its sheath and blanket, placing it beneath the bed, promising that she'd return it as soon as we rose in the morning.

"What was the outcome of the war between the states of your country?" I asked, hoping that there had been a good outcome, at the very least that was deserved by the people who were being oppressed.

"The South lost, a horrible and humiliating defeat, and the thirteenth amendment was added to the United States constitution in December of Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-Five, making the practice of owning slaves a crime. Life has improved for the ones that were freed, somewhat, but there is still much that needs to be done to make things right."

It was good to hear, that justice had been sought and found, and finally delivered to those who had it coming. Claire walked over to her vanity table after putting away the Vorpal Sword, to tidy herself and blow her nose, and as she walked back to the bed I found myself growing heated and aroused, watching the bobbing of her full bosom, the hypnotic sway of her hips from side to side as she returned to the bed, and I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my throat as she pushed me back down against the pillows, straddling my body, her dark hair falling down upon her chest, concealing her rosy tips from my gaze as she ran her hands over my chest.

"Why did you say earlier that your mother was a 'half-breed'?" I asked, reluctant to interrupt the lovely effect of her stroking of my flesh, but confused enough by what she'd said that I had to have some clarification. "Why did you say that she was a 'savage' woman?"

"There are people in my country, people who are native to that country, who are treated just as bad, if not worse than those enslaved by the Southerners. My maternal grandmother was one of a tribe of those people, who some called 'savages', and she was married to a man who was from England, so my mother was half of my grandmother's blood and half of my grandfather's, and she was what hateful people would call a 'half-breed'. That makes me a quarter of that blood, so I guess that you could say that I am a "quarter breed"."

She said it jokingly, but I could see that it hurt her; the hatred of those that she'd lived amongst. "Did these native people look like you?" I asked, reaching up to run my hand through her thick silky hair.

"I am a slightly watered-down version of them," she answered. "I have the dark hair and eyes and the golden complexion, though theirs tends to be more of a brown, more of a russet, than mine is."

"So you could say that I have that blood to thank for your hair and your eyes, and for the hue of your skin?" I asked, grinning as she nodded. "I have that blood to thank for helping to make you the beautiful woman that I married?"

She blushed prettily, she was always self-conscious when I made mention of her beauty. "Well, I don't know if I'd quite put it like that," she answered. "But yes, it's that blood that influenced the shade of my hair and my eyes and of my skin as well."

"Wouldn't put it quite like what?" I asked teasingly. I knew that it made her uncomfortable when I talked about her looks, but I still did so anyway. She was my wife, and the way I saw things, it was my right as well as my duty to point out to her how pleasing she was to me. "Should I have said gorgeous? Or maybe stunning would have been more accurate. How about lovely? Or perhaps you would prefer exquisite? Maybe I could say...oomph."

My words were cut off quite pleasantly by the press of her lips against mine, parried by the thrust of her tongue within my mouth, and I quite forgot what it was that I had been saying, and it really didn't matter whether she answered me at all, not when compared with the alternative that she'd just given me.

Unprepared-Not ready for something or not expecting something to happen.

Claire's POV

After the emotional low, then the glorious high that I'd experienced the night before, my nerves were more than a little frazzled as I went through my training, but I felt better than I would have if I hadn't had Tarrant to help me through. He was such a wonderful man, amazingly loving and sensitive, always knowing what he should say, and what he should do, to make everything better.

I finished my scheduled training and went to bathe, improving my appearance and my spirits before returning to the solarium to study the charts and messages for the day. I was sitting at the largest table in the room with Tarrant, doing more flirting then actual work when the door opened, admitting the Tweedles, whose faces were a mixture of happiness and apprehension, followed by an ethereal maid, a breathtaking beauty, who seemed so familiar to me but from where? And then she lifted her head, her golden ringlets fell away, and I felt the foundation of my world slipping away as well.

"Miss Quinn?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "What on earth are you doing here? The Ascot's have been in a state, they thought that you had been kidnapped or worse. How is it that you came to be in Underland?"

I couldn't answer her...my own incredulity at seeing her, and the dread that tugged at my heart were too strong at that moment. I felt Tarrant rise up beside me, and I felt a shaft of pain course through me when I saw his face, all the emotion that was there while he looked at her.

"Dear me," he said, walking around the table to stand before her as though he were in a trance. "Alice...you came back."

A/N: A cliffhanger, I know, but I promise that all will be well, so please don't send me any hate mail. Also, if I offended anyone with any of the topics covered in this chapter, let me apologize for that as well. I don't write things with the hope of causing offense, but rather I offer my opinion, and hope that it doesn't unsettle anyone too much. I am also a proud "half-breed" myself, so bear that in mind if you wish to write me and criticize my use of that offensive term, as well as "savage".


	22. Words That Start With The Letter V

Chapter Twenty-Two

Words That Start With the Letter V

Vanquish-To overcome, suppress, or subdue an emotion, feeling, or idea.

Claire's POV

It literally felt as though someone were reaching into my chest, squeezing my heart in the palm of their hand, their fingers digging in and ripping the organ apart. It was hard for me to breathe, it was almost impossible for me not to cry, and more than anything else in the world I wanted to knock my husband away from her, to make those emotions on his face disappear, and to make it where she would never be allowed to return, the damnably perfect Alice Kingsleigh.

"I'm not Miss Quinn," I whispered, so softly that I was heard by none, especially not by the blonde perfection who was currently enthralling my husband. "I am not Miss Quinn!" I repeated, my words sounding forth thunderously, reverberating off of the walls of the solarium. That caught everyone's attention, that of Alice, as well as that of my husband, who seemed to break free of the stupor that he'd fallen under when he first saw Alice as he turned to look at me, confusion clear upon his face, but I ignored him as best as I could, fearful that I'd cry if I were to look at him too closely. "My name is now _Mrs._ Hightopp," I finished, more than a little self-conscious of the spectacle that I was making of myself.

"That means that you are married to the Hatter, is that right?" Alice asked, and I nodded. "Well congratulations to both of you!" she cried, leaning forward to place her arms around my husband. I waited for him to come back to me, to stand next to me, maybe to even place his arm around my shoulders, but he did none of these things, and I felt one of the tiny tears that I'd been struggling against fall down my cheek. I wiped it away very quickly, in the hopes that no one had seen it, and then I figured that I shouldn't have worried, considering the fact that they all had eyes for the fair Alice alone, or at least it seemed that way.

I tried to calm myself, to collect my scattered thoughts and think of anything that might have soothed my injured feelings, but all that I could think of was that she was back, his first love was back, so why would he want me anymore? I had masked the first of my tears just fine, but I knew that there were more to come, a lot more, and I fled the room with a choked excuse that I hoped was understood as an explanation. Tarrant called after me as I made my hasty exit but I ignored him, too caught up in choking down my sobs until I was alone.

Virtue-The worth, advantage, or beneficial quality of something.

Tarrant's POV

"Having a "what might have been" moment Hatter, or have you simply taken complete leave of your senses?"

Marchie's question brought me back to the here and now of my life quite successfully, and I wondered what it was that he was alluding to. "What is it that you're blathering about now?" I asked rather crossly. "I'd be willing to swear that there's nothing more that you like than the sound of your own voice."

The hare grinned at me, a smirk that was positively oozing with disdain. "And I would have been willing to swear that there was no one that you loved more than our Claire, but apparently I was mistaken in that belief. After all, if you truly loved your mate, you wouldn't have found your fool head turned by any other woman, especially the one woman who left you high and dry over five years ago."

That was definitely a low blow on Thackery's part, and I felt my temper flare to life within me. "What exactly is it that you are insinuating?" I hissed, clenching my hands into white knuckled fists at my side in an effort to stop myself from wringing the damned hare's scrawny little neck. "I love my wife more than anything else in either world, and I'll thrash anyone who has the audacity to suggest otherwise, even cantankerous auld curmudgeons like you, Marchie my friend."

"That was an impassioned speech, very moving, very convincing, but did it escape your attention that your wife has left the room, Hatter?"

Of course it hadn't escaped my attention that she had left...well, not really. I remembered calling after her as she rushed from the room, and that she hadn't looked back at me, but it hadn't occurred to me that she might have actually been upset about anything.

"I believe that she needed to use the facilities," I explained, which sounded like a fake and flimsy excuse, very unlikely as a matter of fact, and it was _my_ damned explanation for why she'd left me, which didn't bode well for me at all.

"That's odd," Marchie answered, and I could tell by the look on his face that my reason for why Claire had left so suddenly sounded just as feeble to him as it did to me. "I wasn't aware that women cried as they made tracks for the nearest lavatory. Perhaps the act of relieving themselves is an excruciatingly painful one for females...go figure, huh?"

How was it that I hadn't seen her tears, how could I have not known that she was that upset? Blast it all, she was my wife, my one and only, and I had allowed myself to be blinded by the sight of Alice's return, by the arrival of a woman whom I didn't even love anymore. By Jove, that was quite a realization on my part, but it was true, there was nothing of the old love for Alice in my heart. The spot that she had once occupied was now firmly held by my sweet Éclair, as well as several of the rooms around that one, and the idea that she was somewhere in the palace, filled with hurt over my reaction to Alice and also possibly with doubt over whether or not I truly loved her, troubled me.

"Please cover for me Marchie?" I asked, knowing that I couldn't allow even one more moment to pass by without setting this whole affair to right. "I have amends to make to my sweet darling girl."

"Well, it's about damn time," he answered cheekily. "I didn't think that you were ever going to shut up and go after her. Off you go now, and don't forget to tell her that you love her more than life itself, you daft ninny!"

He certainly was a smartarsed little bugger, wouldn't you agree?

Vulnerable-Open to physical or emotional harm.

Claire's POV

I had walked 'round and 'round our bedroom several times, wondering what would happen to me after night fell. Was he in her arms at that moment, or would he wait until it was dark, after all, candlelight added a certain captivating air to lovemaking, or at least it had in my experience. How would her arrival impact the events that were foretold on Gninokcer Day? Would it still be me that would dispatch Iracebeth and Stayne from Underland, or would that task now fall to Alice? Would my husband still stand as the second champion, and moreover, would he still be my husband?

The more rational part of me, my mind, argued with my heart that I was jumping to conclusions, that I was making too much of a transfixed reverie on Tarrant's part, but my heart argued back that there was no mistaking the emotions that had fueled that look, and that there was nothing to assume when people paraded things openly in front of you.

I sank down onto our bed and pulled his pillow close to my nose, breathing deeply to capture his scent. The bouquet of tea and of scones, of various fabrics, and the sachet that he'd placed in his drawers, which infused his clothing with several hints of the outdoors, woodsy, earthen scents that I loved. Tears fell down my cheeks, honestly it seemed as though I did nothing but cry anymore, and I sobbed into his pillow, hoping that I'd leave behind the fragrance of my sorrow, so that he would never forget it.

"Well, there is the discernible aroma of lust amidst these sheets, Claire, but I hardly think that it would make you cry. After all, some of the lustful bouquet came from you, my dear."

It was a voice that I hadn't heard for some time, and I turned to see Chessur stretched lazily across my bed, sniffing here and there at the sheets that just the night before had been clutched in my hands as Tarrant loved me senseless. "Don't you ever bother to announce yourself before entering a private room?" I asked peevishly. "And you're getting your damned hair all over my sheets!"

"You truly wound me, my dear," he answered, pulling his face into a very good imitation of an injured moue. "You make me sound like some common, hairy peeping tom, who has zero respect for the solitude of those around me, who only seeks to indulge my own lecherous prying eyes...thank you for that, Claire dear."

I knew that it would only encourage him, but I just couldn't stop myself from giggling at his words. He was irreverent and downright rude at times, but beneath that rakish façade lurked a pure heart and soul which was capable of honor and compassion. "She came back today," I said, pressing my lips against Tarrant's pillow. "I hoped and prayed that she wouldn't, but she did anyway."

Chessur disappeared for a moment, and then reappeared next to me, rubbing his head against my arm in a show of consolation. "I heard," he answered. "Is that what's got you so upset?"

"What other reason would I have?" I asked, tears building in my eyes once more, making the room around me grow blurry.

"Gee, I don't know," he said sarcastically. "I mean, you only have imminent battle and possible death looming over your head, but what's that in comparison with the arrival of someone that Tarrant was enamored with once upon a time, right?"

Right then, battle and death sounded preferable to the other images that had been filling my head. "You didn't see the way that he was looking at her Chess," I answered sadly. "It was the look of a starving man who's just latched his eyes on a whole plateful of manna from Heaven."

"I've seen that look on his face before," the cat answered, turning his large eyes upon me. "Many times, as a matter of fact."

"So then you see why it is that I'm so upset," I said, wiping my eyes against the billowy softness of Tarrant's pillow.

"Not really my dear," he responded, reaching up to place a paw beneath my chin, turning my head so that I was looking at him, so that I could see the seriousness in his eyes. "When I saw that look on his face it was because he was looking at you."

Venting-A release or expression of strong feelings or emotions.

Tarrant's POV

I was getting close to our bedroom, thinking that was the most logical place that Claire would have run to. Damn it all, this was one of the biggest misunderstandings that I'd ever had to explain myself out of. If she had thought that there were some sort of deep feelings evident in me when I looked at Alice than I needed to make her see that she was the only one that I loved...the only woman that I wanted...the one person that I needed.

"Just a moment, if you please, Mr. Hightopp," a voice rang out behind me, a very noble, very angry sounding voice. I turned to see Her Majesty, her face a terrible representation of anger and disappointment, and what was worse was that she was joined by Mallymkun, with her tiny foot tapping against the marble of the corridor pathway, and her tiny hands balled into fists on both sides of her waist.

"I don't know where you got the impression that you were free to conduct yourself like some sort of palace lothario, but I am telling you right now that these flirtations that you have engaged in with Miss Kingsleigh will stop right this instant, is that understood?"

'Palace lothario' and 'flirtations' indeed! What a complete haversack of poppycock that was! Had it been anyone else I would have let them know in no uncertain terms where they could take their opinion and what they could do with it once they'd reached their destination, but this was Her Highness, and that sort of language would definitely be frowned upon. I started to explain myself, as politely as possible, but was interrupted by a certain dormouse whose voice had grown piercingly tinny due to her anger.

"She picked up the pieces of your shattered heart and healed them back together!" She screeched at me, her tiny body trembling and her lip quivering with indignation. "And may I remind you that it was Alice Kingsleigh who broke your heart in the first place, and all she has to do is show up and smile once, and you're following her around like your brain went on permanent holiday. I ought to take my sword to your eyes, so that maybe your mind could take over your base of operations once more!"

Blast it all, I'd had my fill of this rubbish. "Listen to me," I said, bending over so that I could look my tiny friend in the eye. "I have hurt my wife, I was on my way to apologize to my wife, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stand here and be lectured by a busybody rodent, nor Her Majesty. If you want to talk to me later, or if you want to stay mad at me, that's your decision to make, but right now I have a woman who needs to hear that I love her, only her, so I just don't have time for any of this melodramatic codswallop right now, alright?"

I waited for the blast of outraged furor to hit me, but they both did the damnedest thing...they smiled at me. "Please proceed," Her Majesty said, standing aside, a movement mimicked by Mallymkun.

I decided at that moment that I would never be able to understand the workings of the female mind, even if I was given one hundred years to study it. I suppose that maybe it was something that was just beyond the ability of most men, myself included.

Vindicated-To clear somebody or something of blame, guilt, suspicion, or doubt.

Claire's POV

Chessur and I were having a pleasant talk when the door to the bedchamber opened almost violently, admitting a very harried, and obviously angry Tarrant, and it did nothing for his disposition to see that I had company. He stepped aside, holding the door open for Chess, his eyes glowing crimson as they dared the feline to argue with him.

"It would appear that the time has come for me to take my leave," Chess said, pressing his furry cheek against the palm of my hand before floating out of the room. He paused beside Tarrant and warned him to not lay a hand on me in any way that couldn't be described as loving, which earned him a warning growl from my husband. He finally left and Tarrant slammed the door behind him, turning to place the palms of his hands against it, breathing hard.

"Who was it that I married almost a month ago?" he asked, and I felt a tug on my heart when I heard the pain in his voice. "Because she was the woman who rescued me, who healed me, who I loved, and who I still _love _more than my soul. Who was that woman Claire? Was she you, or was she Alice Bloody Kingsleigh?"

"It was the way that you were looking at her, Tarrant," I answered, the reason sounding petty and paltry to me now, in the revelation of how much I'd hurt him. "It was as though you had been waiting for that moment, longing for that moment."

He pushed away from the door and walked over to where I was sitting, stopping to kneel before me. "It was shock at seeing her Claire, and maybe for just the briefest of moments it was happiness at seeing her again, but I swear to you that it wasn't long-lost love. All of that went away not too long after I met you, my sweet."

My lip had been trembling as he approached me, and though I felt like a complete crybaby already, I couldn't stop myself from letting my tears flow while I listened to his words. It was something that I should have known, that I should have clung to. Our love for one another was strong, solidified by the vows that we had taken. I had behaved like an irrational ninny, and had hurt my husband, as well as myself in the process.

"Please don't cry, darling," he whispered, moving forward until he was resting between my legs. "I'm so sorry that I've hurt you, and I promise that you never have to doubt me."

I knew that, I knew that he loved me, just as much as I loved him. "I'm sorry too," I answered. "I never should have questioned your devotion."

He looked up at me, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had fallen onto my cheeks. Then he took hold of his hat, pulling it off of his head and placing it on the floor next to him. He ran his hands under my skirts, raising them up and out of his way, lowering his head to place feather soft kisses to my thighs. His fingers traveled higher and higher, finding the slit in my drawers quite easily, probing farther to tease my soft cleft, causing a strong clenching to take hold of me deep inside my femininity.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, amazed at how quickly I could go from devastated to contrite, and straight on to staggering arousal. "They'll be expecting us back for the meeting pretty soon."

"Aye, they will indeed," he answered, running the tip of his tongue along my inner thigh. "And I should think by now that you'd recognize what it is that I'm doing, Mrs. Hightopp." He lightly bit my flesh, his mouth moving further along until he was running his tongue inside my drawers, teasing the fissure that was growing increasingly wet and swollen. "I just decided that I was frightfully hungry for a taste of you," he whispered, flicking against my distended magic spot, causing me to bite down hard on my lip to stifle my whimper of pleasure. "And I'm not leaving this room until I've had my fill."


	23. Words That Start With The Letter W

Chapter Twenty-Three

Words That Start With the Letter W

Wicked-Someone who is playfully mischievous without intending to seriously upset people.

Claire's POV

My stomach lurched as I gazed at the face of my enemy, and I worried that I would have to make a mad dash for the basin in the lavatory, which I had already done earlier in the morning. I just couldn't understand what ailment was afflicting both Tarrant and I, but we had been stricken with the urge to upchuck the past few mornings upon wakening, and our start of the day lovemaking had suffered, because it wasn't exactly an aphrodisiac, the knowledge that your lover had just emptied the contents of their stomach in a violent nature. It was more than likely our nerves that were making us sick, considering the fact that the battle was a mere three days away, and I wished that they would go away, because I wanted to be sure that Tarrant and I were given every opportunity for intimacy. I wasn't one who had a fatalistic outlook on life, but when the time came to join swords with my enemies I would so like it to be with the knowledge that my husband had loved me very properly just hours before.

"It's a wonder that she's able to walk upright," I mused, watching the bulbous headed woman that I was to assassinate walk amongst her collection of soldiers. "I would be willing to bet that her neck aches day and night."

"It will be a kindness then, when you chop the massive thing off, won't it my love?"

I turned my eyes away from my telescope to raise my eyebrows at my husband, to show him that I didn't find any humor in his comment, but as usual I found that it was pretty much impossible for me to hold on to the feeling of irritation when I looked at him. We'd grown even closer since Alice had arrived, which was an enormous blessing to me, and though Miss Kingsleigh and I weren't exactly the best of friends, we were civil with one another. It also helped that Tarrant all but drooled after me all of the time, making it unnecessary for me to even entertain the notion of being jealous.

"What's to say that she won't try a sneak attack now that they're so near?"

Percy usually tried to uphold the façade that he was completely calm and collected, but I knew that he was just as scared as the rest of us were, perhaps even more so, considering the fact that one of his own kin was among those who we were to fight.

"She believes in her own skewed version of honor," Alice answered, her voice that of one who was explaining something to a toddler. I don't know what exactly it was that Percy had done to get on her bad side, but she reacted to everything that he said or did as though it was intended as a personal insult. "Therefore she would never try anything that would contradict that principle."

"Is that right, Sugar?" Percy asked, and it was all that I could do to keep my eyes on the future battlefield when I heard Alice hiss angrily. Those two were an absolute hoot, and what was best was that they performed for free, offering anyone in the vicinity front row seats to their show. "I would say that a power-hungry fiend such as Iracebeth, with the aid that one-eyed lapdog of hers, is capable of damn near anything to reclaim Underland for her own."

The tensions that were flying between Alice and Percy caused Tarrant and I to abandon our telescopes, and we exchanged glances of mutual amusement as we took seats at the table nearest the duo. I had to wonder if they were even remotely aware of the attraction that was hidden beneath their anger and hostility, if they knew how easy it would be for their loathing of one another to drift into a passionate embrace. After all, there had been a small amount of initial dislike between me and my Tarrant, and now we were inseparable, though at times I had to be hell to live with, given that my jealousy often made me both self-doubting and delusional.

"That is a very astute observation, Mr. Willoughby," Alice answered, and I would have sworn that I actually felt the room grow colder as she stepped toward Percy, her eyes narrowed, with one eyebrow raised. "I suppose that I should bow to your knowledge in this case, after all, how much could I know about the former Red Queen? All I did was fight to defeat the Jabberwocky, to defeat her. What could I possibly know when in comparison with a strategic mastermind such as yourself, who has been staring at the same set of maps and charts for nearly three hours, and as of yet hasn't offered one scintilla of useful information?"

This was even better than I could have imagined it would be. I suppose that either I or Tarrant, ought to have intervened, we should have nipped this squabble between them in the bud before it escalated to a level that might prove effective in damaging more than just their feelings, but truth be told, I was rather spellbound at the drama playing out before me, and judging by the look on Tarrant's face, he was equally as captivated.

"Well pardon me, Princess," Percy answered, moving closer to Alice, positively dwarfing her, and I felt an odd sense of sisterhood when I saw her stand her ground, refusing to budge an inch, despite the fact that he obviously intended his movement as one to intimidate her. "I'm afraid that this whole suicide mission thing is new to me, not to mention the fact that someone that I have known and loved and admired my entire bloody life is going to be standing on the opposite side of the battlefield from me. What brilliant _scintilla_ of knowledge could you offer someone who's faced with the probability that he'll have to take the life of someone who has been part of his world since he was a child? Can you give me some sort of idea how he does that, or is that beyond your expertise, Miss Kingsleigh?"

I looked at Percy's face, his eyes blazing furiously, a muscle twitching in his jaw as though it contained a heartbeat. Alice still looked angry herself, but she appeared abashed as well, with a slight quiver to her lips and tears building in her eyes. I'd wanted to hate her, considering who she'd been to my husband, not to mention the fact that she'd devastated him as well, but I had admired her too much in my old life, and since I'd had more time to be around her lately, I had grown to think of her in a way that was mostly friendly, which was quite a surprise for me.

"That's enough, Percy," I said, rising to my feet, walking over to where they stood faced off against one another. I imagined that it was probably quite humorous to see me placing myself between them, considering the fact that I was shorter than Alice, making me appear every bit of David against Percy's Goliath. "You've made your point, and you'll do well to take a little walk outside to clear your head, okay?"

He looked for a moment as though he weren't going to heed my advice, let alone acknowledge it, and when he made another move forward that could have been interpreted as threatening, he found himself being grabbed and held down on a tabletop. Tarrant was smaller than Percy as well, but what he had seen as a menacing movement against his wife had fueled his protective nature, not to mention his temper, and that provocation had filled him with the strength necessary to manhandle Percy as easily as one could a simple rag doll.

"It would be best if you would take a turn about the garden with me, _Percival_," Tarrant whispered, surprising me with the calmness in his voice. "It's hard to restrain yourself from acting like a jackass once you've given your tongue full rein, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you lay a hand on Alice, or my _wife_, for that matter."

Percy's eyes seemed to shift, the anger that made them almost manic ebbing, replaced with a small bit of outrage and a good deal of confusion. "I would never have laid a hand on either of them," he mumbled uncertainly.

"That's a load of bollocks," Tarrant answered. "Your blasted temper was in firm control of you, laddie. Come on now; let's go for that walk, okay?"

Percy allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and started to follow Tarrant out of the room, pausing for just a moment as though he wished to speak, but deciding against it when he saw the look on Alice's face, the hurt and the anger that was no doubt mirrored on my face as well, and he followed Tarrant out of the room instead, closing the door gently behind himself.

Alice seemed to wilt next to me, and I helped her over to a chair, taking the one beside her, unsure of what I should say or do next. I was used to knowing her in the topside world, the one filled with rules and manners, the strict, cold life that I was happy to have left behind, and I wasn't sure how she would react, were I to attempt to calm or comfort her.

"That must have been a pleasurable experience for you, Mrs. Hightopp," she whispered, staring at her hands, not bothering to hide the tears that beaded on her eyelashes before flowing down her lovely face. "I know that you must detest me, after the way that I departed Underland the last time that I was here."

The malicious part of me wanted to answer yes, that it had given me a thrill, but I was shocked to discover that wasn't true. It was accurate to say that I had enjoyed the angry quarreling back and forth between her and Percy, but I hadn't liked it all when I had seen that he had tried to intimidate her, not one bit.

"I didn't enjoy the way that he tried to bully you, Miss Kingsleigh," I answered. "Nor do I detest you, despite the fact that you hurt my Tarrant. I was just jealous of you, thinking that maybe you would steal him away from me."

She smiled and shook her head, "I couldn't have taken him away from you even if I'd wanted to," she answered. "I don't think that there is a woman in existence, in this world or the other, who has the ability to eclipse you in his eyes and in his heart. He might have loved me at one time, Mrs. Hightopp, but you should know that he never cared for me even a tiny fraction of the way that he so obviously adores you."

That made me happy, and I smiled back at her. "Thank you for that," I murmured, thinking that maybe there was some hope after all for her and I to be friends. "And please call me Claire, formal titles seem so silly considering what's ahead of us."

"Only if you'll call me Alice," she replied and after sitting for a few moments longer we decided to get back to work, both of us knowing that our time was growing frightfully short, and would pass long before we were ready for it to.

Wassail-A festive occasion at which people drink a great deal of alcohol.

Tarrant's POV

It was amazing that you could spend day after day with a man, conversing on all subjects, sharing several meals, and yet at times you didn't truly know him at all until you went and got completely stumbling 'round pissed with him, as found out as I ended the evening with the fair-haired, angelic countenanced Percival Willoughby.

We had made our way to the kitchen after Percy's blowup with Alice and my subsequent slamming of him onto one of the tables in the solarium. Damn, that had felt good, to bring him down a couple of notches. I was starting to like him, the more I got to know him, but he still had the propensity to be an arrogant little tosser, so it was beneficial for him to be reminded from time to time that he wasn't bloody royalty, and wasn't going to be treated as such.

Marchie had bitched and moaned aplenty about us invading on his space when he had dinner preparations hanging over him, but he had quieted once I explained what had happened and had pulled out his reserve of Chirk, the best mead that could be found in all of Underland. It was potent stuff, had the texture of blistering fire as it made its way down your throat, but once it reached your stomach had mellowed considerably, and after a snifter full, you'd forget every problem that had ever worried you, right along with your name and your ability to control the volume of your voice. Thackery was the only being I'd ever witnessed who could handle two snifters of Chirk, and pity the fool who tried to imbibe more than that...unless suicide was his intent.

Percy took a big gulp out of his glass and immediately began coughing and twitching, so much so that I thought he was dying, or at the very least having a fit, but Marchie just cackled, finding the whole situation hilarious, and when I saw that the lad was fine I joined in the raucous laughter myself. Willoughby straightened in his chair and glared at both of us.

"I didn't realize that it was your intention to murder me, Hightopp," he said, his voice hoarse from both the drink and his coughing fit. "Wasn't there any easier way available to you...a dagger through the heart, perhaps?"

Thackery hooted loudly at that question, taking a great deal of pleasure in riling Percy even further. "Don't be daft there, fancy pants," he chortled, and I cursed as I snorted whilst taking a swig of my drink, causing the contents in my mouth to escape through my nostrils. "There's none here that desire your death, though several are in residence that would like to deliver a high stepped kick into your arse. You need to remember that tensions are high around here, and take it easy on Alice. What in hell did she do to put such a bee in your bonnet anyway?"

"I can answer that query, Marchie," I said, having regained my ability to speak following my mishap with my alcohol, though it was unlikely that I'd regain my sense of smell for a good long while. "Percival here is smitten with the fair Miss Kingsleigh, and apparently thinks that making a complete jackass out of himself whenever she's around is the surefire way to make her fall head-over-heels in love with him."

Willoughby glared at me and muttered beneath his breath, much of which I didn't catch, but what I did hear regarded doubts of my parentage and suggested that I should attempt to mate with myself, but I didn't allow my temper to spark, knowing that the boy needed to cool down, and thrashing him wasn't going to be as good for him as a good drunk and a sympathetic ear would.

"What is it with you humans anyway?" Marchie asked while running here and there 'round the kitchen, preparing the evening's meal. "Don't you know the first thing about pleasing a woman, what she wants to hear, what she wants to feel? It's damned amazing that the human race has made it this far if every man in creation is as dimwitted as the two of you. How do you ever expect a woman to have the desire to couple with you and get in the family way if you constantly incite her temper?"

I started to object to that statement, but I may as well have tried to rope the moons for all the good it did me.

"Yes, yes Hatter, I'm sure that you're sweet wife welcomed you back into her bed as soon as you apologized, but damn it all man, wouldn't it be easier on both of you if you could resist the urge to act to constantly bungle things up?"

It was Percy's turn to laugh at me, ruddy little git that he was, and that damned Thackery, who was he to offer me marital advice, being a consummate bachelor and general cantankerous pain in the arse that had likely never had a woman anyway? I finished my Chirk and stood up, grabbing the back of the chair as the room tilted 'round and 'round, earning me another volley of laughter from Percy and Marchie both.

"Eh, piss off you great gobshites," I grumbled, stumbling for the door that would allow me to escape. "I do believe that I'll visit the lavatory before I return to my beloved. It wouldn't do at all if I were to fart in her presence, would it?"

Neither of them offered any response, but I suppose that it would be quite difficult to speak when one was occupied with the task of rolling in the floor, laughing hysterically. I hoped that they both pissed their pants, the arse buggerers.

* * *

I was quiet as I opened the door to our bedchamber, hoping to avoid any shrieks of "where had you been?" and "what have you been doing?" It was too damned humiliating to try and explain to my wife that the reason that I was returning to our room at midnight, the reason that I had missed dinner, was because I had been skunky drunk and had went to sleep on the toilet, before I had woken myself by falling off of the blasted thing around eleven and had laid there until the blood and feeling had entered my legs and my buttocks, allowing me to hobble along to our room.

I wasn't quite stealthy enough however, and she whirled around to face me, having been in the process of disrobing, exposing her very lovely bosom, not to mention her curvy legs and that amazing spot betwixt her thighs. A buzzing started in my head that had not one thing to do with the mead that I'd consumed, and I shut the door behind me, crossing the room to where she stood, and bent to take one of her rosy peaks into my mouth. No greetings, no overtures of romance, just straight on to the heart of the matter. She gasped and delved her hands into my hair, arching herself upward to give me better access to her breasts, and I took everything she offered, reaching back to cup her backside in my hands and dragging her across the room, pressing her up against the wall near our wardrobe.

I would have expected her questions to come at that point, or at least a hint of apprehension at my actions, but she only whimpered, her small hands tearing at my clothing, freeing me to the stroking of her palms and fingertips, and I gasped as she encircled my hardened length, gently stroking me until I thought that I'd erupt in her hands, and that wasn't what I wanted.

I lifted her up on the wall, hooking her legs around my waist, and sought her swollen cleft, pleased to discover that she was wet and ready for me. I entered her swiftly, a little roughly, but she didn't seem to mind, in fact, she seemed to enjoy it. I plunged into her hot silken depths, bending my head to latch onto her neck, suckling and nibbling her flesh, reveling in the caresses of her rose buds against my chest, and in the rhythmic clenching of her sheath upon my manhood.

It was going to be quick, the outcome of this joining between us, and I hoped that I would bring her pleasure, because there was no way that I could slow down. Again and again I enveloped myself in her and just as the burst of release took hold of me I miraculously felt the first spasm of her climax and we rode the crest of bliss together. I cried her name, joining her own pleasured shout and we grew still, me holding her against the wall while we murmured nonsensically to one another, kissing each other and basking in the afterglow of our passion.

She swirled her tongue around in my mouth, a leisurely sweep that thoroughly explored me and then drew away from me suddenly, a look of shock and realization coming over her face.

"That's why you weren't at dinner," she said, her eyes narrowing as she stared at me. I felt my heart sink and thought that there couldn't have been a worse time for her to become angry with me, considering the fact that I'd just made love to her and was still buried in her nubile body. "You've been imbibing Thackery's spirits, haven't you?"

There would be no denying her accusation, considering that it was true and that she could taste it upon me, not to mention the fact that I probably reeked of the damned stuff. "That I have, my love," I answered quietly. "And I promise to you that I'll never go near alcohol ever again."

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss me, resulting in an intimate caress on my manhood that had the damned thing thinking that it was time for it to harden once more, senseless flesh that it was. Claire gasped and thrust herself against me, and I pretty well forgot how to breathe when she leaned back and smiled at me in a way that was downright predatory.

"I wasn't complaining, husband," she gasped, tightening her walls upon me, causing me to moan as I grasped hold of her backside and moved within her. "I was simply making an observation."

I wasn't sure at that moment if I was the luckiest man in both worlds, or if she was simply trying to kill me. The truth of the matter was that I really didn't care, because if I were to die, I'd do so with an enormous smile on my face.


	24. Words That Start With The Letter X

Chapter Twenty-Four

Words That Start With the Letter X

Xanadu-A place that is beautifully idyllic.

Tarrant's POV

It was a beautiful morning, with the beams of the sun cascading through the trees to warm our faces as we made our way to the battlefield, the same one where we'd made our stand on Frabjous Day five years before. Alice was going to take up the fight on our side once more, though it was not she who was bedecked in the suit of armor, riding beside me with the Vorpal Sword in her hand, but rather it was my lovely wife, sitting surely atop her steed, her gaze moving unflinchingly over the group that was awaiting us. She had to be terrified, she would have been mad if she weren't so, but she gave no outward indication that she was feeling anything other than calm and self-assured, and that bolstered my spirits considerably, though I was still scared stiff by the thought that I might lose her before this day reached its end.

The forest would have typically been filled with the buzz and business of a variety of insects, along with joyous birdsong, but today it was eerily silent, for the forest life all knew what today was, and out of respect they had made lines through the woods, watching as we passed by, bowing to Her Majesty, a few here and there handing us sprigs of blossoms, with whispered well wishes. I knew that there were a good deal of them who were expecting us to fail in our endeavor, and why wouldn't they? We were greatly outnumbered, and our champion was yet another girl from up top, who bore the even greater responsibility of executing both Iracebeth and Stayne. When one took that burden into their perspective it did make things seem rather hopeless for our cause, didn't it?

Personally, I refused to give even a moment of my attention to that detrimental type of thinking. A cause only became a lost one if you allowed yourself to believe in that way, to my way of thinking, and I was determined that I would keep my train of thought firmly on the track that would see our side emerge victorious today.

Claire had her right hand filled with the Vorpal Sword, but after a few moments of my gawking at her she looked at me and smiled, placing the blade into her scabbard, and then she removed the gauntlet that was covering her hand and held it out to me. I had to wonder how it was possible that she always knew what it was that I was feeling, what it was that I needed. I took hold of her hand, grasping it almost as though it were a lifeline for me, and I suppose in a way it was, a link to the one thing that I needed more than anything else, save for the breath in my lungs and the beat of my heart, both of which would seem useless if I were to have to live without her.

I hoped that both she and I would make it through the battle without an episode of the nausea that had gripped us lately. Neither of us had been able to reason out what it was that had been plaguing us, but she had raised from bed extra early this morning to speak with the Healers about the condition. It dawned on me at that moment that I hadn't even thought to ask her about her visit, about whether or not they'd been able to shed any light on the mysterious ailment and whether or not it had a cure.

"What news did you learn from the Healers?" I asked, stroking my thumb across her hand. "Do they know what's wrong with us?"

She smiled softly and lifted my hand to her lips, trailing tiny kisses across each of my knuckles. "There's nothing _wrong_ with us, Tarrant," she answered between the brushes of her lips against my skin. "Rest assured that I learned only good news today, and I will tell you about it after we get this wretched business over with, okay?"

Well, if it was good news, if there was nothing wrong with us, why should I have to wait until after the battle to learn what she knew? I wanted to know about it then, blast it all, because there was a fairly good chance that I wouldn't have the opportunity to know about it afterwards. I wasn't prone to a defeatist outlook on life, generally speaking, but I knew well enough that the odds were stacked against us.

"Why won't you just tell me?" I asked quietly. "It's really bad news, isn't it? I've gone and made both of us sick and now you're trying to spare me that knowledge, aren't you, my love?"

It wasn't very nice for her to laugh at me, especially when one took into account the fact that there was little to nothing to find humorous on this day, of all days, but there she was anyway, giggling at me, her eyes dancing merrily. "I should think that you'd have a little pity on me today," I told her peevishly. "It's not the most polite behavior, you know, to laugh at a man who's under so much pressure."

She bit down on her bottom lip, as though she were making an effort to cease her giggling, but that didn't help, and she gave into her cackling once more, irking me enough that I pulled my hand away from her and started to leave, at least, I did until she grabbed hold of my coat, pulling me back until I was beside her once more.

"Come on now, sweetheart," she said in a cajoling tone of voice. "I'm sorry for teasing you. Please don't be mad at me."

She said that in a way that suggested that I could ever actually stay angry with her. "Okay," I replied with false reluctance. "But you have to tell me what you learned today."

She took hold of my hand once more and looked at me kindly, but firmly. "Not until this madness is over with," she replied. "I don't want your mind occupied with anything other than the need to fight and survive, okay?"

No, that wasn't okay at all. Did she honestly expect me to go through the day and not be plagued by a horrible case of _what ifs_? Damn it all, she may as well have asked me if I had a notion to see her naked then refuse to do more than show me a tiny peek of her breast before covering herself once more. I wasn't someone who cared to be kept in suspense, nor did I enjoy being teased, and this feeling I had now was born from a union of both tension and torment.

"How is this union expected to last if you won't do what I say?" I asked quietly, hurt by the knowledge that she would keep secrets from me, no matter the reason why.

"Oh, Tarrant," she sighed, a tiny smile curving her lips. "Of all the times to remind me of my vow to obey, you would choose the moment when all Hell is just about to break loose on us, wouldn't you?"

It was an underhanded move on my part; I'd known that when I said it, but she hadn't left me with very many options, had she? Sometimes dirty tactics were required to obtain what one wanted, and I certainly wasn't above using them if needs be.

It would seem however, that fate was on her side today, as opposed to deciding to shine upon me, for it was at that moment that Her Majesty called us forth to stand with her, to present a united front as we approached the battlefield. I felt a small shaft of fear course through me as I took the full measure of what was waiting for us, and I could only hope and pray that my courage...not to mention my resolve...would see me through.

Xanthippe-An ill-tempered woman.

Claire's POV

I wasn't particularly prepared to face-off with Iracebeth, but then, when would I ever actually be _ready_ to face her? The answer to that was, more than likely, never. The call to the Queen's side had provided me an escape from Tarrant's questioning however, so I suppose this was an excellent example of finding the good in the bad. It wasn't that I didn't want to tell him our news, the truth was that I was beside myself with the need to tell him, but this fight was already going to be difficult enough without him having more reason to fear for my safety.

I realized as I moved my mount closer to the opponent's side of the battlefield that I hadn't been given a true measure of the enormity of Iracebeth's head through my telescope...it was absolutely gargantuan in size. I couldn't imagine what I would do if I had to carry that sort of monstrosity around on my neck, I suppose I would suffer from constant pain, but she didn't seem to be in any pain at all, and actually seemed rather proud of her bulbous noggin.

Her lapdog Stayne, who was rumored to have attempted to kill her many times, had the appearance of someone who had grown at a freakish rate, leaving no time for his body weight to catch up to his rapidly extending limbs, giving him a stretched look that was very unsettling. Somewhere along the way to this day of insurrection the duo had managed to lose the chain that had been placed on them to hold them fast to one another, but they may as well have been permanently attached at the hip, because it would seem that one could not survive without the other.

"Greetings to you, sister dearest," she called across to Her Majesty as we approached. "This is a rather dismal showing on your part, isn't it? I can see that the dreadful Um girl, who in truth was the terribly horrid Alice, has reemerged by your side, but I also see that she is not your champion. How unfortunate for you, and for your cause, that you're forced to rely on that hideously dumpy girl from Up Top and her freakish mate instead."

I knew that she was speaking with the intention to rile me, and she managed to do so admirably. It was all that I could do to stay seated upon my horse, when what I truly wanted to do was walk up to her and pull every last hair out of her globular head. Of course, I could also have reminded her that she was hardly in any position to mock someone for their supposed freakish nature, when she was so obviously a complete aberration of nature herself, but that was exactly what she wanted, was for me to jump on the bait that she was dangling, and I'd be damned if I'd give her that satisfaction.

"It pains me that you would resort to these measures once more, Iracebeth," Her Highness answered, dismounting from her horse to approach her sister directly. "Wasn't the last battle, and its punishments, sufficient proof that I will not allow you to usurp me any longer?"

The former Red Queen tossed her head, rolling her eyes as though this whole encounter was nothing more than an irritating buzzing in her ear. "I am allowed to commandeer that which is rightfully mine," she replied haughtily. "And _all _of this will be mine before this day reaches it end, sister dear. You can mark my word on that."

I waited for Her Majesty to hit back at her, to deny her boasts, anything that would wipe that simper off of her face, but she wouldn't stoop to that level, it would seem, and chose instead to cross the field back to her line of combatants, leaving me no choice but to follow. It would seem, however, that Iracebeth wanted to play with me just a little bit and she reached up to take hold of the bridle on my horse, stopping me from leaving, though I could have easily broken free of her hold, had I wanted to.

"Why step into the role of Champion?" she asked, making her disdain for me evident in every word that she spoke. "It is a lost cause and one that's truly not even yours, is it?"

That was a wonderful example of the narrow abilities of her mind. To her way of thinking, I had ended up in Underland through an accident, which was true, and therefore shouldn't feel any sort of obligation to these people, which was only accurate from her selfish view of things.

"Underland is my home, and Her Highness is my rightful queen," I answered, reaching down to smack her hand until it fell away from my bridle. "Maybe if you had even the tiniest inkling what it means to be loyal to something or someone other than yourself, then you could understand why I stand as Champion today."

"You don't fool me, you impudent wench," she hissed, massaging the hand that I'd slapped as if I had actually caused her pain, although it was more than likely her pride that was damaged, rather than her flesh. "You're scared to death and really, who could blame you? I'd be petrified as well if I had to depend on a hysterical madman as my backup if I was as woefully inadequate as you are in warfare."

"Don't flatter yourself madam," I countered, with anger like none that I'd felt in a long time coursing through me, the murderous need for vindication which would serve me well on the battlefield, if I was able to harness it. "You're not nearly as awe-inspiring as you would imagine yourself to be."

I whipped the head of my mount around and then encouraged her to back up quickly, a move which knocked Iracebeth off of her own horse, to land in the dirt, which raised a resounding cheer from my fellow warriors. Tarrant was shaking his head at me in what was meant to be a scolding fashion, but it didn't have the effect he would desire considering the fact that he had a huge smile on his face.

"Down with the Cyclops!" I yelled, waving my sword over my head, laughing as everyone on our side cheered and loudly repeated my words. "And down, once and for all, with the Bloody Big Head!"

I couldn't have explained where my burst of daring had come from, or the bravery that filled me, but it felt damn good. I risked a glance back at Iracebeth and had to laugh when I saw the rage on her face. She had planned on drawing the first blood in this fight, but her attempt had been a paltry one.

"I hope that you are ready, madam," I said, kicking at my horse to cross the field and rejoin my comrades. "Because the time of reckoning for you and yours is at hand."

A/N: Just two chapters left, 'Y' will cover the battle and 'Z' will be an epilogue of sorts, and then we will have to part ways...sob and sniffle. Thanks to all who have supported this story...you guys are awesome.


	25. Words That Start With The Letter Y

Chapter Twenty-Five

Words That Start With the Letter Y

Yearning-A strong desire, often tinged with sadness.

Claire's POV

Her Majesty joined us at the line for a moment, lingering for longer than she should, her reluctance to retreat to the point of safety obvious in the quivering of her lips and the tears brimming in her eyes. I could only imagine the weight that she was suffering beneath at that moment, to have the likely destruction of so many of your subjects a very real possibility, yet to know that there was nothing else that could be done, all while you realized that you were very fortunate to have those fighting that you did. So many had deserted her in recent days, leaving only the bravest of her followers behind to stand and fight with her, and I don't think that there was one amongst us who fully expected to walk away from that battlefield at the end of the day. You couldn't stand and fight for what was righteous without accepting that the continuation of your life wasn't a guarantee, and you had to be fully willing to make that sacrifice, if you honestly believed in your cause.

"I'll try to stay as close to you as I can," Tarrant's voice was soft in my ear, and just a little quivery, which scared me. Not that I hadn't been frightened already, I would have been a fool if I hadn't been terrified, but the knowledge that Tarrant was on the brink of tears unsettled me more than anything else that had happened this day. "We will deal with Iracebeth and Stayne _together_. Is that understood, my love?"

I knew why he was making that declaration, and while there was nothing that I would have liked more than to have him fighting by my side in that moment, I knew that the final task belonged to me and me alone, and I wasn't going to have him trying to step in for me, because that wasn't was meant to happen.

"The hand that holds the Vorpal Sword is the hand which is prophesied to take the life of the former Red Queen and the Knave of Hearts," I answered, grimacing when he cursed violently in a hushed tone.

"Don't you dare try to use that absurd rationale on me, Claire Hightopp," he hissed, moving his mount into step with mine as we began to cross the field to where our opponents stood waiting. "So help me, I swear that if I see you anywhere near either of them without me by your side, and if you are fortunate enough to survive the attack, I will take you across my knee and warm your backside with the flat of my blade."

I turned to look at him, my eyes wide, and bit down on my lip to stifle a giggle. "If your intention was to frighten me my dear, then perhaps you should have chosen a _punishment _that didn't sound quite so..._interesting_...to me."

It was his turn to be the one who was wide-eyed after that comment, and then a wicked smile came over his face. "Mind my word, Wife," he whispered, leaning over to kiss me before we started our horses to trotting. "I don't think that you'd enjoy it very much if I left that sweet arse of yours in such a state that you wouldn't be capable of sitting upon it for a week."

Sweet arse indeed! Who did he think he was to threaten me anyway? If I had been given enough time I would have given him a fair sized piece of my mind, but the enemy line was drawing too near. We stood in the front line, me and Tarrant, joined by Percy and Alice, Marchie and the Tweedles. We were followed by the Queen's soldiers that had remained loyal to her, and behind them the small amount of subjects, both gentry and peasant.

Iracebeth's forces started their approach, led by a group of soldiers in red, followed here and there by several of noble birth, and at the middle was Stayne himself. Damn, he was ugly, and it was no wonder that his face was so repulsive, considering the hideous spirit contained within him, in addition to the slash that had blinded his left eye. His heart shaped patch was far more disconcerting than a round one would have been, and that I supposed was part one his reason for choosing that shape.

"No matter what happens on this day, know that I loved you from the moment that I first saw you, my sweet, and know that you gave me a reason to live, a purpose for myself."

It angered me that he was talking to me in a way that suggested that he was telling me goodbye, but as I gazed back at those who were standing with us, I could see that everyone else was doing the same thing that he was. "What will happen on this day will be the liberation of Underland once and for all from the oppression of that bulbous headed harpy and all those who grovel at her feet," I replied, my voice low and serious, with only the barest hint of a quaver to betray the fact that I was close to tears. "And you should know that I loved you from the first moment that I saw you as well, though I would have denied it vehemently. You are my reason to live Tarrant, and making you happy gives me a purpose in life, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let that be taken from me."

We reached the center of the battlefield and dismounted, and I was pleased to see our enemies do the same. It was difficult to fight effectively atop a horse, and it was good to feel the level solidity of the ground beneath my feet. Tarrant and I stayed at the center of the line, and both of us refused to allow any of our comrades to shield our bodies with their own. There would be no one here today who would be allowed to think for a moment that we expected them to sacrifice themselves for us.

The fear that I'd been suppressing all day welled up to a level that was almost hysterical as I stared at the faces before me, thinking how unsettling it was to know that these people all wanted me dead, to put a stop to the prophecy laid forth by the Oraculum, and that they had no qualms at the notion of sticking their blades into my body. There was so much hatred, so much fierce acrimony from them that I almost staggered, almost backed away, but Tarrant held me straight, though I could see how difficult it was for him to do so, judging by the rage that was causing his eyes to glow a bright crimson. It would help him to do what had to be done, I supposed, that his berserker tendencies were pumping necessary hostility through his blood.

Stayne raised his sword above his head and issued the order to charge, and it was as though time slowed to a point that was nearly still as I watched our opponents start towards us, in what was surely a run, though it looked almost as though they were gliding into a graceful waltz instead.

"Remember all that I taught you, my love," Tarrant said, raising his voice to be heard against the roar that started as soft as a whisper in my ears, but which quickly grew to be horribly deafening. "Please keep yourself safe."

I should have answered him, should have implored him to keep himself safe as well, but comprehensible speech was beyond my abilities at that moment, as time returned to its normal speed and I was forced to brace myself as my first adversary approached me. For some reason I had expected that Tarrant would stop this person from reaching me, but that was before I turned to see that he had already had to fight off an attack all of his own. In the last few seconds that I had afforded to me to successfully respond I flattened my feet against the battlefield, balancing myself, and sidestepped the attack at the precise moment.

My opponent was a young man, a brash young man, I would be willing to bet, who had foolishly charged me with a fulsome amount of certainty as to who was the superior warrior, and I was sad to say that it was a mistake that he wouldn't live to regret.

He passed me by, his blade missing me altogether, and I didn't even bother to offer him the chance to regain his footing. This was a battle, not some sort of refined fencing competition, and I turned to the side and let my blade swing, and while the whole act was heart wrenching to me, the act of taking someone's life, the absolute worst moment was not the arterial spray that colored his lips crimson, it wasn't the sputtering that escaped him before he died, nor was it watching as the life left his eyes. It was the fact that he'd had time to turn and look at me before my steel struck with enough force to nearly separate his head from his body, and that I had to see that split-second that he realized that he was just about to die.

He wasn't the first person that I had slain, nor were my actions unjustified, but that did little to squelch my sudden and nearly overwhelming urge to vomit. In the end I didn't have time to empty my stomach, I hardly had a chance to even catch my breath before the next one was upon me, and this one was older, a wiser man than his comrade had been, and I actually had to employ some of the tactics that Tarrant had taught me, beyond that of keeping the soles of my feet flat on the ground and gliding sideways to avoid an attack.

We appraised one another and attacked accordingly, but neither of us could hit the other. It was a deadly dance around the battlefield, and what I didn't know was that he had choreographed the movements with another, distracting me while the other stalked up behind me, resorting to a move of absolute cowardice, which would have worked in their favor, had my Tarrant not been aware of the situation.

He had finished with his own opponents, as I saw from the corner of my eye, and the next thing I knew he was bellowing at me to drop out of the way, just in time for the sword that had been intended to strike me from behind to pierce the chest of the man that I'd been battling, causing his considerable bulk to drop down on top of me.

I heard Tarrant cry out my name, a terrible sound unlike any I'd heard him make before, and I thought I was mostly covered by the brute that had the audacity to die on top of me, my vision wasn't hindered, and I saw the man who'd tried to pull the sneak attack make an attempt to run, only to be grasped by my husband, my furious mate who was caught up in a murderous vehemence that was a terrifying sight to behold. He wasted no time with preliminaries, made no pretense of actually fighting, nay; instead it was an execution, a thrust of a sword into the man's stomach, moving upward to split his belly, gutting him like a fish. Had I been able to shudder, that would have been the moment, as the viscera fell to the ground, the odor joining with those that had assaulted my nose since the battle had commenced.

In all of that gore I was still able to admire the oddity that was seeing my husband in a skirt, alright, a _kilt_. It wasn't something that I was used to, the sight of a man's legs bared to the knee, and I had to stifle a gasp of surprise...which wasn't too difficult considering the weight on my chest...and tried not to ogle as he stepped over my head, providing me with a bird's eye view that he was unclothed beneath his kilt...bare assed and man parts dangling freely.

"That's a fine "how do you do?" for your wife," I gasped, wondering for a moment if my mind was going soft on me, and it was obvious by the scowl on Tarrant's face that he was pondering that same possibility himself.

"Did you go and hit your head when you fell?" he asked, pushing and pulling against the dead weight that was resting on top of me. "Is that the reason you're going all befuddled on me, lovie?"

I groaned with relief as he finally managed to budge, and then push the ample corpse off of my body, and then rolled to my side, taking deep, satisfying gulps of air into my atrophied lungs.

"I didn't hit my head, Husband," I answered, grunting in a rather unladylike fashion as he helped me to my feet. "And that wasn't befuddlement speaking, it was disbelief at the fact that you flashed your undercarriage at me when you crossed over my head, and it was completely bare."

Had we not been in the middle of a battlefield, with despair and carnage all around us, the look of absolute disbelief that crossed his face would have been downright hilarious, but considering the fact that we could be struck down at any moment I resisted the urge to laugh hysterically.

"Get a grip on yourself, woman," he hissed, grabbing hold of my hand to drag me alongside him as we made our way back into the center of the fray. "This is hardly the time to be acting like some sort of addle minded ninny."

I might have known that he'd wait to make a provocative remark like that when we were flung headfirst back into the skirmish, leaving me with no opportunity to retort. Well, we'd just see how bloody clever he was after all of this nonsense was said and done, wouldn't we?

Yonder-The far distance.

Tarrant's POV

She was an awesome sight to behold when she had her knickers in a twist. Most of the time I wouldn't have dared speak to her in that fashion, but every now and then, when my blood was up and pumping, as it was at that moment, I felt compelled to say and do things that in normal situations the tiny part of my mind that I'd reserved for damage control would have kept me from doing so.

She fought valiantly not too far from where I was doing a fair job myself of holding my own. The numbers on the field were dwindling, slowly but surely, and it was heartening to see that our side was doing an admirable job of keeping our collective head above the water. It was also helpful to my heart to see that my loved ones who fought within the fray were still alive and well, battered and bruised and somewhat bloodied, but still walking and breathing and fighting. That didn't lessen the staggering blow of the losses that we'd suffered, but it made it somewhat more bearable.

Stayne was guarding Iracebeth for some odd reason. I would have expected him to abandon her, to hope that she would finally be taken from this world, freeing him, even for a short while. He must have had some trick up his sleeve, the greasy, one-eyed git, but he wasn't my main concern at that moment anyway. My attention was occupied by my wife running to intercede on behalf of Percy, who had been squaring off against his aunt, the traitorous Lady St. Suvier, when her goons had jumped him from all sides, leaving him in a very precarious position. I understood that he needed help from someone at that moment, if he wanted to survive, but why did it have to be my darling wife that rushed to his side?

If my heart hadn't been in my throat I would have taken a second or two to admire her form, her grace, her natural ability with the blade, but considering the fact that she was in very real danger of being skewered or decapitated, or possibly even both at that moment, there was no way that I was going to pause for anything as I charged towards her, letting loose with a battle cry that curdled my own blood, not to mention catching the attention of all those who were intent on murdering my wife.

It disturbed me that one of those that fell upon my blade was a young man, no older than seventeen perhaps, and I cursed the fact that I'd been forced to end his life before it had really began, but it was he who held the blade to my wife's throat, having sneaked up behind her while she finished with one of his comrades. His face bore that look of someone who had never even considered the possibility that he would die that day, and that made me curse angrily as well, the youthful arrogance that made one think that they were invincible.

One by one they fell and I had just a moment to accept thanks from Percy when something cracked against my skull, shooting a horrendous pain all throughout my head and dragging me slowly into a silent, pitch-black existence. I can't tell you how long I was out, but when I awakened I saw that I was being forced to kneel before the former Red Queen and Stayne, who had been the one to thump my noggin for me. I looked around wildly for Claire and my heart sank in my chest and I choked on a cry of furious agony when I saw her lying still on the ground, blood oozing from a large gash in her forehead. Iracebeth had brought a luxurious red velvet chair out onto the field, and the bloody cow was using my beloved's back for a foot rest.

"Oh Hatter, you've joined us at last," she purred, sliding her feet forward then bringing them back to dig the heels of her shoes into Claire's back. They had removed her armor from her body and had seized the Vorpal Sword, and needless to say that they were feeling quite giddy at that moment.

"I do so like a roly-poly girl to rest my legs upon," the witch continued, drumming her feet up and down the length of my sweetheart's back. "All that warm flesh feels marvelous against my aching feet."

I could have killed her at that moment, could have choked the life from her with my bare hands, but no matter how I struggled, I couldn't break the hold of those who were restraining me. "Let her go, you bubble headed bitch," I hissed, tears of fury and of helplessness gathering in my eyes for a moment before spilling down my cheeks. "Have me instead...after all, I'm the one who's antagonized you on countless occasions, remember that, eh, Iracebeth?"

My words had the desired effect of her rising angrily to her feet, thus moving her away from Claire, and they also had the horrible consequence of the cow tromping across my wife's back to stand before me, all but quivering with her anger.

"Why, you insolent little _toad_," she hissed, drawing back her hand to slap me hard across my face. "How dare you presume to address me so familiarly, as though you were an equal of mine?" Again her hand cracked me across my cheek, and it hurt like the very devil, but I'd be damned if I were going to give her the satisfaction of hearing me cry out in pain. "Your head will roll for this infraction, Hatter," she jeered, drawing back her hand to deliver yet another blow, but I decided that she had hit me enough, and I reached up to capture her hand in my fist, twisting her fingers until I heard her bones crack, which was a sound like the sweetest of music to my ears, followed by an even pleasanter cry of pain.

Stayne rushed to her side, ready to dispatch me once and for all and the convened army of Underland, loyal to the White Queen was bolstered by what they'd seen, and by the knowledge that Claire and I were just about to die, and they led yet another charge, with Her Majesty, Percy and Alice leading them. Swords clanged and bodies slammed into each other, and Iracebeth and Stayne could only watch, their eyes wide, as their loyal subjects fell one right after another, and the moment that had been prophesied soon after Claire had come into my world arrived, and she rose to her feet with my help, bloodied and battered, and approached the pitiful duo. Stayne blubbered and begged, but his words did not faze her. She swung the rescued Vorpal Sword and it sliced through the air, the swish of the blade the only sound as what was Ilosovic's body and what had been his head parted company, his lone eye staring blindly at the sky as the skull in which it had resided fell to the ground.

Iracebeth frantically searched out her sister's face in the crowd, struggling against both Percy and me as we held her in place. "I beg that you would allow me to live," she pleaded pitifully, and I was shocked to see what appeared to be genuine tears streaking down her face. "I promise that I will go away and never come back. You are the rightful Queen of Underland, I'm willing to admit that, and I'll never come back or bother you again...I promise you, Sister."

Her Majesty seemed torn, which was understandable, but then her face hardened, and it was obvious to all that she would remain resolute to the task at hand. "Too much innocent blood has stained your hands, Iracebeth," she whispered sadly, and turned to walk away, leaving her sister to her bloody fate.

* * *

I decided that I would be content to just sit for the next week and watch her wash her lovely body in our humongous bathtub, if she'd only allow me to, but I knew that she would say no if I were to ask. It had been a long day, and we'd finally returned to the palace as the suns sank down under the line of the horizon. We'd all received care for our gashes and broken bones, well at least those who'd had them had. Everyone had been injured in one way or another, and tomorrow the mourning would begin for the brethren who had fallen in the battle.

I was growing aroused as I watched her hands spread the soap all over her breasts, and I decided that there was no reason why I shouldn't help her wash herself, after all, I needed a bath as well, and there was no better time than the present to cleanse myself.

I would have to be very careful, very gentle with her because I knew that her back was very bruised and sore, and there were stitches closing the gap in her forehead. The Healers had said that she'd make a full recovery...

It was then that I remembered that she'd seen them that morning, and that she'd had news, and I hurried over to the side of the tub, hesitant to make any demands upon her, but curious and stubborn enough to let her know that I had waited as long as I could, and I had to know, right then, right there, what she'd found out that morning.

As usual she knew what I wanted without me having to ask, and she reached out and took hold of my hand, guiding it over to where she lay, sliding it down over her tummy and holding it there, rubbing my palm over her skin. I'm sure that she thought that her message should have been obvious to me, and I felt like a bloody simpleton because it wasn't.

"My tummy is going to grow round, Tarrant," she said softly, placing her hand over mine. "Month after month it will grow larger, and after nine months it will lose its roundness."

"Why do you intend to fill your stomach with air?" I asked stupidly, thinking that there had to be a valid reason for her to do so, but for the life of me I couldn't imagine what it was. "You'll have the worst gas pains of your life if you do that."

For just a moment she stared at me and then she started laughing, which would have hurt my feelings immensely if she hadn't risen out of the water and pulled my head down to hers to kiss me, two soft caresses and one lingering touch.

"Not air sweetheart," she murmured, nipping my lips with her own. "There's a baby growing in my tummy Tarrant. Your baby, my baby…_our_ baby."

I couldn't decide whether to scream with fear, cry with joy or just jump up and down like a loon, dancing here and there, so in the end I settled on a combination of all of them. This was terrifying news, shocking news, but it was good news as well...the absolute best that a man could receive, in my own humble opinion…I just hoped that I had what it took to be a good father. Not an adequate father, and certainly not a bad one, but a wonderful father, the best in all of Underland, because that was exactly what our child deserved, wouldn't you agree?


	26. Words That Start With The Letter Z

Chapter Twenty-Six

Words That Start With the Letter Z

Zenith-The high point or climax of something.

Epilogue

It was the night of yet another grand ball, a night to celebrate, a night for fellowship, but Claire Hightopp, heavy with eight months of baby in her tummy, was resolute in her declaration that she wasn't going anywhere, that she had no desire to "parade herself around the dance floor like some sort of hippopotamus in kid slippers and a formal gown", no matter whether Tarrant wanted her to or not. She was feeling more and more self-conscious with each day that passed, and while she still allowed him to make love to her, she refused to allow him to keep any candles lit, lest he catch sight of her "distended pouch" and lose all his desire for her, not only for that moment but for all time, according to her.

She had locked herself in the washroom, calling through the door to tell Tarrant to go on without her, saying that she would be just fine there by herself, and that he should go and enjoy himself. He had already been irritated at that point, but when she continued to be stubborn, and her tone was more acerbic than what he cared for, he became a tad bit angry.

"You come out of there right this instant!" he said, his voice rising with the cadence of his fists against the door. "I'll be damned if I'm going to abide any more of this fractious behavior from you!"

Claire hooted with laughter, foolishly confident in the strength of both the door itself, as well as the lock that held it secure. "Is that right?" she called out, her voice all but dripping with sarcastic daring. "What are you going to do if I don't come out, Husband?" she continued, her audacity growing with each word that she spoke. "Maybe I'd rather stay in this room and behave _fractiously_, as opposed to providing the entertainment for all those in attendance tonight, if it's all the same to you."

Tarrant took several deep breaths, trying valiantly to regain control over his temper, closing his eyes as he felt the fire within them flame to life. "If you value your ability to sit comfortably, Wife," he called out quietly, the deceptive calmness of a man who wanted nothing more than to rip a door off of its hinges. "Then you'd best open this blasted door, or so help me, I will break it down and take you over my knee, pregnant belly be damned, and warm that backside of yours good and proper."

Claire covered her mouth and giggled, wondering when her husband was going to learn that she _liked _it when he spanked her, although he'd never hit her hard enough to actually hurt her, and would find a more effective threat to use against her. "I wouldn't recommend that you do that, Tarrant," she called back to him, snorting just a little, laughing as she imagined his face turning red, as well as his eyes, from his temper. "It's very likely that my excessive weight could cause irreparable damage to your knees were you to try and hold me across your lap."

He didn't speak for several moments, and she wondered if he'd just given up on her and left, but then he spoke once more, his voice so soft that she could barely hear what he said.

"Are you standing by the door, Claire?"

She answered his question that she was not standing by the door before she gave any thought to why it was that he would ask such a question, and when the door separated from its hinges, crashing down to rest on the floor of the washroom, and her crimson-eyed husband entered the room, looking positively furious, she had her answer as to why he'd made that inquiry of her.

"I have made a real effort to conduct myself in a gentlemanlike manner, my dear," he growled, crossing the washroom to stand before her. "But I can't say that you're making it very easy on me. It's rare, wouldn't you agree, that I make a request of you, so I don't think it's asking too bloody much for you to escort me to the ball tonight, is it?"

She wasn't afraid of him, she knew him well enough to know that he would never hurt her, no matter how angry she made him. She also knew that she was behaving in an irrational and selfish fashion, and it was true that he gave and gave in their marriage, and seldom asked for anything in return.

"I'm sorry, Tarrant," she said, stepping onto the toppled door to place her arms around his waist and press herself as close against him as her distended tummy would allow. He almost seemed to deflate against her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her with such ferocity that it almost hurt. "It's just that I feel so bloated and ugly, and no matter what I wear I look like I have a huge pumpkin topped by twin watermelons under the fabric. I don't know how you can even stand to touch me anymore."

He leaned back and looked at her, his face filled with disbelief. "First of all," he said, running his fingertips down her cheek. "Ugly is a word that could never be used as any kind of descriptive for you, my love...it's criminally incorrect in reference to everything about you. Secondly, you are not bloated, you are pregnant, and while I'm ignorant about a good many things, I distinctly remember you telling me that you would get bigger and bigger, so it looks to me like you are progressing just as you should. And may I also say that your pumpkin and watermelons are beautiful and just as capable of inducing hunger within me as they ever were. Lastly, there isn't a moment that goes by that I don't long to touch you. If it were feasible for me to do so, I would make it to where I never had to stop touching you, but our attachment would become awkward when one of us was making use of the lavatory, so it's probably best that we remain somewhat detached from one another, wouldn't you agree?"

She was staring at the ground by this point, feeling both giddily content and very foolish. It hadn't entered her mind that pregnancy was something that a man might actually find attractive, she had thought that only the woman in whose womb the new life grew would realize the wonderment of the miracle involved. This new knowledge made her feel beautiful and powerful, and she had a sudden need to tear her husband's clothes from his body, but knew that they were already late for the party and she still needed to prepare, so she put those thoughts to the back of her mind, knowing that they would keep until later.

* * *

Claire had to wonder what trick it was that Tarrant had up his sleeve, what secret had him so excited that he was all but dancing as they approached the ballroom, but this was the one time that he was able to keep everything a surprise for his wife. He was determined that the reason for the planned festivities would remain a mystery until she walked into the ballroom, and he'd done an admirable job of keeping her in the dark.

She could hear the hustle and bustle happening behind the ballroom doors and thought to herself that the movements, the chatter and laughter, sounded like no other ball that she had attended in the palace, and then she saw the twinkle in her husband's eye, and realized that it wasn't a dance at all, but rather some other to-do that must have been to honor them. She just hoped that it wasn't some sort of frivolity that would applaud them for the umpteenth time as the "heroes of Underland". She just didn't think that she could stomach that sort of thing again, not tonight.

She knew that Tarrant shared her view on the belief that they weren't heroic and deserving of honor. The real champions of Underland were those who had given their lives to save the Queen and her kingdom, and though they had been hailed and regaled, it was believed by the Hightopp's that they were the only ones who deserved any real recognition.

Tarrant bid her to close her eyes and cover them with her hands, requesting that she keep them closed, with no peeking, until he said that she might look. She did as she was asked, and was surprised by how quiet the ballroom became as she entered, nearly as silent as a tomb, as a matter of fact. She could smell flowers, lots of them, and the sweet sugariness of a cake of some sort, joined by a fruity aroma as well. She could tell that there were a good number of people in attendance, and she was just about beside herself and thought that she'd pass out from her curiosity before Tarrant gave her permission to have a look around.

"Uncover your eyes now, my pretty one," he whispered in her ear, and she slowly lowered her hands, her eyes growing wide with shock as she took in the scene around her.

There were clusters of balloons in pastel shades of pink, blue, yellow and green high in each corner of the room, joined by banners in those shades, with streamers trailing to the floor. There were cut crystal vases placed here and there throughout the room, set on tables covered with cloths that mirrored the hues of the balloons, filled with a variety of apple blossoms, baby's breath, yellow carnations and gardenias. Claire's eyes swung around the room, from one surprise to another before landing on a tiered cake that had to have been as tall as she was, decorated with prams, baby bottles and baby chicks, lambs and rabbits. Evidently they had received some information from Alice on themes that were appropriate for an infant. Next to the cake there was a sterling silver fountain punch bowl, which had provided the fruity aroma.

Claire was touched by the fact that everyone had bustled around and organized the event, as well as maintaining the secrecy of this gathering. She smoothed her hands over the large swell of baby that grew bigger with each day that passed and looked out at her friends, at her new family.

Bayard and Bielle had added three more pups to their already humongous brood and were happily lapping away at bowls of the finest cream to be found in the palace. The Tweedles were dancing around the punch bowl, singing a song about "red trickling showers bringing forth fruity flowers". It had to be a tune of their own making, but neither Tarrant nor Claire wanted to question them about fruity flowers, knowing that an inquiry like that would more than likely backfire on them.

Mallymkun was chatting with Her Highness in the corner of the room, sipping at glasses of punch, and McTwisp bounded from one side of the room to the other, clearly uncomfortable in the festive atmosphere. Thackery stood by with a very large, very scary looking butcher knife in his hands; ready to cut into the cake, and Chessur was spiking the punch with some sort of alcohol, placing his paw to his lips and whispering _shh_ to the Tweedles. They looked scandalized for just a moment, then went back to singing still about the red showers and fruity flowers, adding a second verse that sang about "Chessy added the hoopy and now we're going to be loopy," causing several in the room to throw inquisitive and in some cases accusatory glances towards the cat, but he disappeared before anyone could question him.

Tarrant and Claire made their way around the room, greeting each guest, and Claire stopped for a moment before reaching the corner where Alice stood with Percy, smiling as she watched the gentle way that Willoughby laid his hand against Alice's cheek, and the way that she smiled up into his eyes. It had taken a lot of effort on Claire's part at playing matchmaker, but it would appear that she'd been successful in her endeavor.

The band started to play a waltz and Tarrant drew his wife up into his arms, moving with her around the dance floor. Life had never been better for either of them, and it seemed as though it would only get better, and that was definitely something worth celebrating.

_One Month Later_

Elizabeth Lilia Hightopp had carrot hued hair, much to the dismay of her Papa, but everything else about her looked like her Mama, and he found solace in that as he cuddled her close in his arms and sang to her a lullaby of his own making, about stars and moons, and tiny babies sprinkled with fairy dust. Claire was asleep in their bed, and there was a smile of serenity on her face that warmed Tarrant's heart, because he knew that, in spite of her pain, and the long hours in which she'd labored, that his beloved was happy, blissfully so, and standing there, gazing lovingly on the miraculous gift that had been bestowed upon them this night, he knew there would never be another moment of sadness in his life, because what more could a man want, what more could he hope for, when he'd just been handed everything that was good and right?

The End


End file.
